Give Me Reason To Live
by Destee
Summary: DM/RW-DM/SS Summary inside. Rated M for strong sexual content, rape, MxM, violence, and language. You've been warned, if you don't approve, don't read.
1. Falling Apart

**Here it is. Warning you now, it's much darker and there's going to be a bit more angst and a lot less hot, steamy consensual sex** **for quite some time. For those of you who like Snape, I apologize, I rather adore him myself but I just felt like making him a bastard in this story. I'll make up for it one of these days.  
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**Summary: When Draco's world begins to fall apart he finds relief in the most unlikely sources, will Ron be able to help him before it's too late? **

**Warnings: Rape, Violence, MxM, Mature Language, Self Abuse**

**Disclaimer: I do not, nor do I claim to, own Harry Potter or any of it's characters or the places in the books. Merely my own plot and sadistic habit of tormenting her amazing characters**

**Enjoy~**

**XxDess  
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He couldn't understand to save his life why, of all people, it had to be **him**. He'd gotten over the fact he fancied boys ages ago, but **why **did it have to be _this_ one? A pale hand cradled his forehead as a disgruntled groan passed his lips. The Hall was filled with loud noises, the sounds of forks scraping on plates, chattering teens, and laughter. His head swirled as heavy lids fell to protect his eyes. Though the image that haunted him still burned itself neatly into his thoughts, making him grimace.

Though not nearly as bad as the pair of arms that snaked around his shoulders and the rancid breath that brushed against his neck, nor the voice, a thousand times worse than anything he'd ever heard that he could never seem to get used to.

"Drakey, what's the matter?" Cooed the owner of those arms, slathering his cheek in sloppy kisses, making him cringe and glance over at Blaise with pleading, half-lidded eyes. His friend just smirked and shrugged, glancing the other way with a snort. Slowly he turned to the pug-faced girl with a grimace, narrowing his eyes as he attempted to pry her fingers from his arm, glowering.

"Bugger off, Pansy," He hissed with a malicious tone, gritting his teeth. She stared up at him with wide eyes, pouting just a bit with quivering lips. He shoved her off without a second glance and clambered to his feet, knocking Blaise upside the head as he went. Draco could've killed the boy, but instead he just took off as fast as his feet would take him without losing his grace; he'd never let these people see him as anything less than perfection.

Once he was alone in the corridors he relaxed, shoving his hands in his pockets and running a hand haphazardly through his hair and loosening his uptight attire. If father could have seen him in such a state he'd be disgusted; hair ungreased and disarrayed, dress shirt untucked and collar up, tie undone. He looked nothing like the proud, pure-blooded aristocrat he was supposed to be. He looked nothing more than common, shameless trash. He slumped down towards the dungeons, the thought of a comfortable bed and solitude driving him forward.

His hopes were shattered when a strong, pale hand caught him by the front of his shirt and he was forced forward into the dank, empty potions room. It reeked of the many ingredients that'd been cut up and brewed throughout the day. Though he was barely aware of the stench, his eyes were locked -wide with confusion and a bit of fear- on a set that glinted in the dark room like beetle's eyes. His brow furrowed, staring up at the Potions Master with a slightly tilted head. For a long moment there was nothing but silence, until finally Snape's crisp, smooth voice broke through;

"What are you doing down here so early, Mister Malfoy?" His lip curled as he said this, his own head moving slightly to one side as he leaned a little closer, waiting for the small blond to speak. Even after two years with him Draco was still a bit unnerved by his presence.

"I.." Draco's voice shook and he took a breath, straightening up as best he could and attempting to look smug and unshaken, giving Snape what he hoped was a proud, uncaring smirk, "I was heading back to my dorm, _Professor_. Is that against school rules now?" He asked coolly, raising a thin brow. Snape scowled, slamming Draco mercilessly into the wall behind him, narrowing those dark, malicious eyes. A shiver ran down Draco's spine as the taller man leaned in closer, sneering down his hooked nose.

"I won't tolerate rudeness, Mister Malfoy," He hissed darkly, when the quivering blond opened his mouth to retort he instead let out a pitiful yelp at the feeling of a set of teeth against his throat, nipping and biting painfully. Pinching and tearing at the skin without remorse or mercy. He tried to shrink away only to have his back pressed more firmly the cold stone wall, whimpering with wide silver-blue eyes.

"Sir, I-I just wanted to-""Quiet, Draco. You'll hold your tongue until I say elsewise, or lose it." He barked against the pale neck-which was now bleeding slightly-. Draco felt tears prick the corners of his eyes, though he wanted to be angry and yell or throw insults towards him for the way he was being treated he was too scared of the way those eyes were staring him down. Trying to pretend it wasn't happening he squeezed his own eyes shut tight, feeling something curling around his wrists, binding them to his sides. His voice was caught in his throat, he couldn't help but feel disgusted with himself when a cold, rough hand found its way under his untucked shirt and ran across his stomach. As his trousers fell to his ankles the first tear slipped out from his eyes, betraying him, taking shuddering breaths to keep himself from screaming he willed the tears to stop, for Snape to release him.

The whole ordeal went on for so long Draco lost count of time; he barely registered the pains that rocketed throughout his body, the hot tears leaking shamefully from his eyes and soaking his face, the number of times his lips were used. He simply went blank, sobbing occasionally but altogether was very quiet, he felt he would be sick if Snape didn't stop some time soon.

Draco whimpered when he felt, for what seemed the millionth time, the older man fully sheathe himself within the blond's once untainted entrance, his fingers balling themselves knuckle-deep in that blond hair. It was full of sweat and Snape's sin, he wondered if he'd ever be able to wash off what was happening to him as his own hands curled into little fists on the cold floor. His insides felt as though they were on fire as, once again, a disgusting grunt escaped the man above him and he was filled. Upon his release the frail boy fell to the floor, quivering and curling into a ball, sobbing and hugging himself with tightly shut eyes. He was getting a headache from how often he'd done that throughout the process. When robes were tossed carelessly over his side he took a harsh, shaking breath and opened his eyes a sliver to see the Potions Master dressing himself and snapped them shut again in revolt.

"Get up." Snapped the man, walking away, Draco barely heard the words, "_Scourgify,_" but felt his skin was now untainted and dry, once he felt himself able to he opened his eyes, quivering weakly and forcing himself to his feet. He mechanically dressed himself, blankly staring at the ground; he felt a sickly cold air wash over him and his tongue curled in on itself. It made him shudder, but as quickly as the sensation had hit him it was gone and he was nervously glancing over at the man who had ridiculed, abused, and used him. He was smiling widely, like he was proud, and tucking his wand away with a snort. Draco's face grew hot with renewed hate, but paled with the same terror that had been building from the moment the man had forced him into the room.

"Oh, you didn't think I was just going to allow you to walk away and tell the world what happened, did you Mister Malfoy? How _ever_ could we continue these little meetings if I was found out?" He chuckled lowly at the look of shock evident in Draco's features. He gave a visible shudder at the way Snape said his name, pronouncing every letter with a disgusting _hiss_. "Now get out. It's nearly curfew, wouldn't want to be doing detentions, would you?" He cocked a brow with that smile that Draco was sure he'd never be able to look at again without running to the lavatory to fill the closest toilet with his sick.

At the words the blond was running, shirt half-way unbuttoned, untucked, tie left behind, trousers unbuttoned, his trainers untied, looking a right mess. But the moment he was alone he regretted moving so fast. Pain shot white-hot throughout his legs and lower back. He was amazed to find he still had enough tears in his reserves to offer their indulgences to his agony. He barely managed to limp towards the entrance of the common room and hiss out the password before collapsing onto the closest couch. His face buried into the arm chair as he sobbed, curling into the fetal position once again and holding himself.

"Draco?" The sobbing boy jumped at the sound of his name, landing painfully on his aching backside, the cold hard floor causing him to yelp and jerk upright. He was far too traumatized to straighten his appearance up and pull on the calm and collected façade he usually wore so well. He refused to look at Blaise, who squatted next to his crumpled form with a sigh. Though when he moved to put a comforting hand on the boy's shoulder it was shoved away and he was on his feet with wide eyes. The anxious boy narrowed his own, examining Draco with a frown, he was covered in bruises and bite marks, his eyes were swollen and red, bloodshot to the point their icy irises were practically glowing. Blaise slowly took a seat on the couch, brows furrowed, quietly waiting for the other to sit as well.

Eventually Draco gave in but situated himself as far against the arm as possible, Blaise noted that as he placed himself on the couch he went even paler than before and his face contorted with pain. "What-..What happened to you?" He asked quietly, not daring to touch him again, he was shocked when he heard the boy's voice. It was so unlike him, broken and afraid, shaky and choked,

"What the fuck does it look like Blaise?" He hissed darkly, hugging himself and burying his face in his knees, rocking slightly back and forth. His friend looked taken aback, staring at his hands as he tried to force himself to ask the question he dreaded knowing the answer to. There were so many swimming around in his head he had no idea where to begin and Draco took his silence as something more than it was. "Wish you wouldn't have asked now, huh?" He asked quietly, not moving his face, so his voice was muffled, "Don't bother asking Blaise. I couldn't tell you who did it if I wanted to." He forced himself to his feet, glaring hotly at the boy and forcing himself up the painstakingly long set of stairs that led him to his comfortable four poster bed.

He crumbled once he was underneath the covers, sobbing silently into his pillow and clawing at his skin in a frenzied attempt of discarding all the clothes he was wearing. Disgusted by them, the very idea that they were touched by those damning hands was enough to make him sick. Once he got the energy to, he rose from his bed and re-dressed, kicking the discarded clothing to the farthest corner of the room with a scowl.

As he lie awake, staring hopelessly at the top of the curtains that surrounded his bed and hid him from the world he felt nostalgia at the thought that merely hours ago his biggest concerns had been an obsessive ex girlfriend and being in love with a boy he was supposed to hate. He even managed weak, humorless chuckle thinking back on it. It was like looking at someone else, someone who didn't have a real worry in the world. A fool who thought a name and a well respected father were the only things that he needed to keep himself protected. At the thought an immense urge to cause himself pain washed over him. To make it all go away for good, but he didn't have the energy to move and gather a weapon, something to inflict this pain with. He sustained himself eventually with raking his sharp nails down his frail and bruised wrists. They were torn and tattered from clawing at the floor and walls. He didn't stop this process until deep scratches and whelps trailed from the palms of his hands to the base of his shoulder. Tiny pin-pricks of blood dotted the angry red wounds that tainted his otherwise perfect, pale skin. For the longest time he picked at a few of the miniscule wounds, daring to deepen them, make them more serious. He wanted more than this.

That was the night Draco Malfoy lost himself for good and found his only relief in the dark red crimson blots that smeared themselves across his skin. His only release to keep his crumbling mind from completely unhinging would be to take his hate out on himself. As he began to fall asleep he feared the day to come, feared waking, but more than that feared what would greet him behind closed eyes.


	2. Saved By The Lion

**And now chapter two~ Feedback would be great. But I don't really care, I just hope you like it. I'm hoping this one'll be a little longer than the others. Sorry if Draco seems a little out of character but it's just how I see him after something like that. He'll be a lot less Malfoy and a lot more Draco here lately.**

**Enjoy~**

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_There were hands on him, all around him, pinning him down. Hips were thrusting against his broken frame, nauseating tastes filled his mouth. He tried to cry out, but his lips were pried open by thick need, thrusting into them. Making the writhing boy gag, tears burned so hot on his face he feared they were on fire, like his backside. His wrists were pinned atop his head, all the man's weight was on his body. He couldn't breathe, couldn't see, wriggling around he just heard it over and over again._

_ "Who's a good little slut?" Making him whimper and cower, wishing he could cover himself. Run, hide, anything to save him from this horrible place where he was used and abused. Those hands gripped his shoulders and shook him. Now his name was being called, "Draco.."_

"_Draco.."_

"Draco! Get up!" The pale boy writhed and screamed under Blaise's hands, running a knee into his stomach and sending him backwards as Draco stared, horrified at the form of his friend on the floor. His chest was rising and falling rapidly, he could still taste, feel, smell, and hear the horrible things that had happened to him. His whole body shook in revulsion and he was running for the bathroom of the dormitory. Buckled over the porcelain bowl he spilled out nothing but acid and what he assumed was digested semen, burning his throat and making his eyes water. After a few moments the contents of his stomach were emptied and he was only dry heaving. He coughed and rose weakly to his feet. Only now, without panic encompassing him did the pain sink in, his entire back ached, his arms stung, head throbbed. He limped over to the sink and washed his mouth out a few times before applying a tooth-brush to it.

"..Draco?" The sound of Blaise's voice made him flinch and nearly gag himself on the tooth brush, shuddering and rising to his full height as he spit the remains of suds from his lips and swished with water. "I'm sorry..I didn't..I-" He sighed and shoved his hands deep into his pockets, slouching and looking in the other direction. "You were crying and screaming, mate; I had to wake you up." He dared to peer up at his friend with a hard frown, "You were hurting yourself," And now Draco saw it, the claw marks on his throat and cheeks, bleeding slightly. He stared, for a long time entranced by the deep marks on his body; he was terrified by how much he liked the way they looked.

"Look, Drake, you need to go to the hospi-""No." The blond turned to stare the taller, dark skinned boy down with narrowed eyes. "I bloody well **don't** need to, Blaise. And keep your nose out of my fucking business." He hissed, clenching his fists. His face was red with anger, those chipped nails piercing his palms with ease. He didn't flinch in the least at the blood that seeped around his fingers.

Blaise sighed and looked away, crossing his arms over his chest. "Right. Well breakfast is nearly over, you should at least eat." The blond brushed past the other boy without a word, grabbing up his clothes. Once he was back in the privacy of the bathroom with a closed door he cleaned his hands and wrapped them in bandages, they were the spares he'd had since Pomfrey tended to his arm when the hippogriff attacked him. Once his forearms and palms were wrapped, the wounds on his neck and face cleaned, and he was fully dressed, careful not to forget the vest and robes for once, he wandered out of the dormitory.

He took a deep breath, smoothed back his hair, and tried to the best of his ability not to limp as he exited the common room and made his way silently into the Great Hall. The Slytherin's sat far away from him at the table, even Blaise, Crabbe, Goyle, and Pansy kept to themselves. Everyone who saw him gasped and stared, but he didn't notice, he was poking at his food, feeling disgusted at the sight of it. He pushed his plate away and sipped at his pumpkin juice. He made it a point not to look up, especially not at the teacher's table. But he couldn't help but hear the students talking about him.

"_Did you see his face?"_ one girl at the Ravenclaw table gasped to the other, in what Draco figured she thought was a secretive tone, the other merely made a noise of agreement and the conversation went on to O. and other more important things. He turned his attention to another conversation between one of the Hufflepuff boys and a Slytherin girl.

"_He was crying?_" The boy asked incredulously and Draco guessed the boy was staring at him but he didn't give them the benefit of looking up, so the girl continued, "_Yeah, I mean it was downright scary to be honest. Even in __**our**__ dormitory I could hear him screaming. It was pretty weird._" The Hufflepuff boy laughed a little and Draco rose to his feet, hands balled into fists. His face flushed with anger and head swimming with the gossip going around every table.

When he dared lift his eyes from the floor he found himself staring into a set of shocking blue ones, they looked concerned and confused and it took all his energy to look away as the ginger whispered fervently to the bushy-haired girl beside him who was also staring. He glowered when he looked back and the trio was staring at him, Scarhead, Weasley, and Granger. He let his irritation show as they kept staring. From where he stood he snapped lowly,

"What the fuck do you think you're looking at you filthy little mudblood?" With that he turned his head, storming away from the table. He walked with his best attempt at grace, but froze mid-step, stone-cold when he heard a voice that was a thousand times worse than Pansy's reached his ears.

"Watch your language, Mister Malfoy; I'll be seeing you after classes for detention. Ten points from Slytherin." He flinched as his eyes widened, his whole frame shook, and he bit his tongue to keep from screaming when one of those hands was on his shoulder. He jerked away, staring wide-eyed at Snape, what little amount of blood that had been left in his cheeks had drained away.

A few people sniggered and smiled at him, but to his surprise Weasley and his stupid friends looked concerned. Draco stepped backward, yelping when a pain shot through his backside. He lowered his eyes and took a breath, "Of course, Professor Snape. I'll not let it happen again." He felt the color return to his face and moved to leave, but Snape's hand was on him and he felt the strong urge to throw up again.

"Not so fast, Mister Malfoy, I expect you'd like to _apologize_ to Miss Granger for your rudeness?" If it were possible the blond's face went even redder, but he nodded and side-stepped, doing his best not to get too close to Snape as he walked slowly towards Granger and the others at Gryffindor table. He looked as though he would be sick again, mumbling exasperatedly towards her with his eyes fixed on the far wall of the Hall.

"..I apologize," He forced out, gnashing his teeth and biting back tears of embarrassment. "I won't let it happen again, Granger." He glanced back at Snape, who didn't look impressed, even went to the extreme of shaking his head and crossing his arms. With a hard swallow to keep his throat from drying out he turned back to the now horrified Granger, not daring to look at Potter or Weasley as he went on. " was disrespectful, I am sorry if I offended you." He took a step back, daring a quick glance at the three. Potter looked amazed, Granger shocked, and the Weasel looked angrily past him at Snape.

He turned, wanting to leave, and growled lowly when a hand grasped his wrist, letting out a pitiful yelp he attempted to pry the fingers from his limb, panic rising in him at the feeling of being trapped again, looking at the red-head with wide, terrified eyes. At once the fingers were gone and he was concerned.

"Are you alright, Malfoy?" He asked softly, Draco cringed at the sound of his name, it seemed tainted due to Snape and he did his best not to correct the boy. He stared, stone-faced and tight-jawed back at him with a hollow, dead look that made even Potter's face etch with concern. Though all at once he was glaring hard and clenching his fists, snapping angrily.

"What do you care?" And with that he spun on his heel, for the first time in his life he abandoned his reputation, and ran through the pain. He barely noticed people staring and pointing. He just wanted to be alone; he didn't want to go to classes. So he did the last thing he'd ever imagined doing of his own free will. He went to see Madame Pomfrey. All the way to the Hospital Wing he heard whispers, snippets of conversations. All of them were about him and they acted as though he couldn't hear them, people giggled and pointed or just walked on like they hadn't seen him. He had never been happier in his life to see the room he usually avoided, nor the eccentric healer. She looked worried when she saw him.

"What happened, Mr. Malfoy?" She asked sweetly, and he felt revulsion rise in his stomach at the sound of that name again, shuddering a bit and looking at his hands. "I..had a nightmare," He rubbed the back of his neck with his bandaged hand, chuckling weakly, "I reckon I accidentally hurt myself," He attempted to play it off cool, unbandaging his hands with a sigh, the arms followed once he had rolled up his sleeves. Much to his dismay when she saw that his wounds went past the elbow she asked him to remove the shirt all together.

As he stood there, exposed from the waist up, revealing his wounds, from his own self-inflicted ones to the deep bruises in the form of teeth that were ghosted across his throat, chest, and stomach, he felt like he was back in the Potions room. With Snape bearing down on him, using and abusing his fragile body, scarring him for life with his touch. Madame Pomfrey stared, wide-eyed with a hand clasped over her mouth. After a moment she fixed him with a stern stare.

"Mr. Mal-""Please don't call me that.." He found himself muttering under his breath, fixing her with pleading eyes. "Just..Draco. Please?" He added quietly, she smiled weakly, it didn't touch her eyes, and she nodded, "Alright then, Draco dear, has..someone hurt you?" He felt his stomach drop, twist painfully and then lurch. He looked at her with wide eyes, shaking his head. He was far too afraid of what she would do if she found out. That and he wasn't sure what jinx Snape had placed on him, only that it seemed to be there to make him incapable of telling someone who did it. He hadn't tried to tell, so he wasn't very sure if it only stopped at the "who" or if it just all together make it impossible to explain that he'd been raped at all.

"No, of course not," He smiled to the best of his ability, "I uh..Well had a bit of a party recently, you see," He felt his face flush from the lie, saying such things to someone who looked old enough to be his grandmother was embarrassing, even if it was a lie. She didn't look convinced, but nodded and tended to his wounds without a single word.

"Would you like to rest in here until your next class, Mr. Mal-I mean..Draco?" She asked quietly, as if imagining that speaking any louder would shatter him into thousands of little pieces. He nodded and she watched him closely as he tried not to limp on his way to one of the many beds scattered about the room. When he was sure she wasn't paying attention he eased himself onto one of the lumpy, uncomfortable beds and tried to ignore the pain. After a few minutes of peace Madame Pomfrey was at his side, dabbing his wounds and cleaning them before tapping her wand on each individual one. There was a strange sensation of heat and then the skin cooled and most of the pain was gone. He didn't dare let her know that cuts and bruises were only the tip of the ice-burg and there was no way he'd ever let her heal up what was hurting him most. So he just thanked her and tried his best to relax. All too soon he was up again, heading towards the common room to gather his things for potions without the wounds.

People pointed a little less, maybe because he looked ready to kill, but he was relishing in the fact they were cowering, it made him feel powerful. After what happened a little bit of power was the one thing he really needed, and once he entered the Potions room -he'd had to force himself to do so, which wasn't easy- it dawned on him. He was to serve detention with Professor Snape this afternoon. Dread curled into his belly and made itself comfortable. Though Snape acted as he always did in class, took every opportunity that was given to him to torment Potter and Longbottom. Unlike usual, tough, he was now adding to the punishment by picking out Draco's mistakes. And there were more than enough to point out.

Twice he'd managed to mix the wrong ingredients, cut himself a few times –and he enjoyed that more than he should have until finally he'd managed to cut so deep Snape took away the knife-, and burned the potion itself. Snape let out a dark groan that made Draco feel sick. He'd been sucking the blood from his wounds and Snape was watching a little _too_ intently, so he'd immediately stopped. It was a bit easier than he'd expected to be around the man. Probably since he felt safe with so many students around to keep him distracted, but now Snape was glaring daggers at him.

"Mister Malfoy-"A visible flinch ensued as he turned to look at those beetle-black eyes, "Go work with Mr. Weasley before you wind up in the Hospital Wing with a severed limb." He glowered, flinching when those blue eyes were on him, almost as bad as Snape's they were. Much less terrifying, though, it was still unnerving to watch the way they looked at him. Like he was some broken little child who needed to be pitied and treated with care. It made him sick, but it seemed that most things did now.

Slowly the blond made his way over to the front table where the Weasel was nursing a foul-smelling potion that was obviously not at all what it was meant to be. The red-head glanced over at him with furrowed brows, but didn't speak. The younger Draco would have complained at the messily cut ingredients given to him, but he just dumped them in wordlessly, ignoring Weasley's attempts at conversation. Finally he managed to brew a decent potion, though Snape still complained.

"Somehow, Mister Malfoy, you can't follow the simplest of directions, can you?" He raised a brow, sneering, "The potion is supposed to be _yellow_," He breathed down Draco's neck, making him whimper and squeeze his eyes shut, they were sore and still slightly swollen, this didn't help. "I suppose orange will suffice," He grumbled before walking away to torment someone else. Once the man had his fill of torturing Longbottom and each student who had made a suitable potion filled a vile and handed it in, Snape waved his wand. The cauldrons emptied and they began packing up. Draco was the fastest, nearly spilling his things all over the place and tipping a container of porcupine quills as he did so. Once everything was hastily packed away in his potions kit he backed away from the table.

As it had that morning, a hand wrapped around his wrist and he bit his tongue to keep from screaming, his heart racing at the grasp, when he turned to see the owner of that hand he quivered and dug his teeth into his lip. Stupid fucking Weasel. He stared at the boy with wide, terrified eyes, trying to look angry, but his stomach felt like it was expanding as the creature within that wrapped so tightly around his heart when he so much as thought of Snape awakened.

"..let me go." He breathed out lowly, jerking his wrist, but it wasn't released, and he could feel the creature creeping up inside of him, seeming to freeze everything it touched. Curling up in his throat and coiling around his heart again. The Gryffindor narrowed his eyes, shaking his head.

"What's up with you, Malfoy?" The blond struggled, whimpering quietly and attempting to pull himself away. Snape drifted over with a malicious smile playing on his lips, placing a hand on the red-head's shoulder. Before either could speak he mumbled in his low, haughty voice that Draco hated so much.

"Starting trouble, are we, Mister Weasley?" He raised a brow and glanced in the blond's direction with a look that made his skin crawl. "No, sir, I was just-""Quiet, boy, ten points from Gryffindor. It seems you'll be joining Mister Malfoy in detention this evening." Dread built up inside of Draco at the man's words. Would he hurt Ron too, or would be spare the punishment for another time? He hoped that Snape wouldn't put Ron through what he had been, whimpering as he attempted to prise the fingers from his wrist.

"Sir," He mumbled quietly, not looking at him, "I would hope..you could find a more fit punishment for Weasley and myself than the last detention, it doesn't really seem a fit detention for the..the both of us." He breathed out and Snape laughed, shaking his head before speaking up.

"Of course not, Mister Malfoy, the both of you will be cleaning up flobberworm mucus." He raised his brows, releasing his grip on the Gryffindor with a knowing smile. Ron, on the other hand, looked more than a little confused. "Run along, the both of you. Wouldn't want to be late to your next class, now, would you?" Draco jerked his wrist from the red-head's grasp and ran until he was alone, making his way as slowly as possible back to Madame Pomfrey. A tiny sliver of a smile tugged at his lips as he went, though, for now Snape wouldn't touch him. Apparently he didn't trust the Weasley as much as Draco, or perhaps it was that he didn't desire him. He wasn't sure why this relieved him more than the idea of not being abused again, but it did.


	3. CounterJinxes and Scavenger Hunts

**Gonna try to get at least one update a day if possible. Feedback and all that is greatly appreciated :)**

**Hope you're enjoying it so far,**

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The next class passed in a blur, Draco barely even noticed the way people were talking about him now. It hardly bothered him that the Weasel kept attempting to get him alone, or to talk to him in class, badgering him. Soon enough he was being tailed by not only one annoying Gryffindor, but three of the stupid lions were watching him.

As the classes wandered out onto the grounds of Hogwarts to partake in their Care of Magical Creatures course, Draco shoved his hands into his pockets, eyes on the ground and head hung low. Even now his fellow snakes kept themselves far from him. He liked it that way; no one jeered or tormented him, much to his pleasure. His fingers were bandaged now from the wounds he'd obtained in Potions. Madame Pomfrey had admitted she wasn't able to heal the wounds due to certain ingredients that were on the blade, so they were neatly wrapped and left to heal on their own with a bit of soothing cream to keep down the pain.

He waited impatiently as they were grouped into pairs, the oaf Hagrid gave Weasley a pitying glance as he grouped him with Draco, who felt his blood run cold. They were doing some ridiculous scavenger hunt, the blond hadn't even heard what they were to be looking for. When the red-headed bastard stood next to him he seemed nervous but pleased to have some time to badger Draco into talking.

"Malfoy, listen I-""Stop calling me that." Weasley looked taken aback at the words, his brows furrowing together as he attempted to register what had been said to him. Draco snorted; he could practically **hear** the gears grinding in the great idiot's head.

"I know what you're going to ask and I'm bloody well not in the mood to hear you prattle on about whether or not I'm alright." He snarled lowly, crossing his arms over his chest with a haughty disposition, enjoying the tiny bit of himself he seemed to be getting back. The Gryffindor's face went as red as his hair, much to Draco's amusement, and he grit his teeth, looking about ready to tear the blond limb from limb.

"Well _excuse_ the bloody Hell out of me for trying to be **con-fucking-siderate** to a ruddy, snide little bastard!" The blond boy flinched and looked away, stuck somewhere between anger at the tone being used with him and fear at the thought of being hurt again. He was damn near positive Weasley wouldn't do to him what Snape did-shudderingly he thought for the briefest moment that he would continue to do so in the future-but he couldn't help his paranoia. The boy before him seemed to notice his fear and sighed, shoving his hands wrist-deep into his pockets.

" Look, I'm trying to be nice here, Mal-" One cold look from those narrowed silvery-blue eyes and his voice broke, starting up again with a bit of a struggle. "Erm..Draco. I can tell something's up, you're not-""Shut up. Okay, Weasel? Just shut up. I don't give a **damn** what you can **tell**. Even if I fucking decided to suddenly confide my personal affairs in someone like **you**, I couldn't! So drop it." The blond hissed icily, lowering his eyes as they wandered around the edge of the forest, not looking for anything in particular. Oddly enough, the other seemed to listen because he didn't speak. Draco sighed and dared a quick glance towards the boy. When his gaze fell on Potter and Granger an idea hit him hard enough to make him stop.

"Weasley?" The other stopped a few inches ahead of him and glanced back with upraised brows, waiting to hear what the Slytherin had to say. When he didn't speak right away a look of annoyance crossed his freckled features that had Draco staring for a moment longer than he should've. Heat rushed to his cheeks and he looked away, forcing the words from his throat. "That..friend of yours, Granger," A defensiveness washed away the confusion, but before he could rush to her protection from whatever insult he'd suspected the blond boy to slander her with, Draco's voice was once more filling the silence. "She's..smart, right?" This earned an amused chuckle from the tall red-head that caused more heat to find its way to Draco's face, making him glare.

"Bloody genius she is, why do you ask?" He noticed how Weasley cut himself off, seeming to stop an insult from slipping through. For a minute he was too nervous to continue, would he give away too much if he asked? He had to, though, if there was anyone who could help him it'd have to be her. She was brilliant, even if he disliked her for her blood, he had to give her that much. Her over-achieving to make up for being born into a muggle family was annoying, but useful.

"Does she know much about..um..curses and..counter-jinxing them?" When the other simply nodded and raised his brows again, Draco forced himself to continue, taking a deep breath and digging his teeth into his lower lip before summoning the courage for his words. "Do you think she'd know about a curse that makes you unable to speak..about certain things?" The confusion lasted a few moments before Weasley glanced over at Hermione thoughtfully. The longer he looked the angrier Draco felt, growing sick with irritation, he bellowed out quietly, "Well?" And finally those eyes were on him again and the anger subsided.

"I could ask her. She's bound to know. Brilliant, 'Mione is, she knows everything. ..Want I should ask her now?" He simply gave a shrug and in response was left alone. It unnerved him the way Weasley spoke of that mudblood. Made him furious, it confused him to no end, though his best excuse was that no pure-blood should be that chummy with a muggle-born. Filth mingling with purity was always the kind of thing that irritated his father, wasn't that what got him so riled up over it?

As he stared at the trio, who glanced at him once or twice and continued talking, he sighed and convinced himself with a weak nod that it had to be the most logical answer. Weasley didn't return for quite a few minutes, Draco took to pacing and gnawing at his lip until blood filled his mouth and stained his teeth, dribbling slowly down his pale chin in a warm stream. As his fingers brushed over the sticky liquid he stared, licking his lips and savoring the taste. More than that the dull, throbbing pain that it brought with it. He was so lost in his trance he didn't register the return of his class partner until he was being offered a piece of cloth and a worried tone reached his ears.

"Merlin, I leave for five minutes and you're covered in blood, you're hopeless." Slowly he took the cloth and quite successfully managed to smear the blood from one end of his mouth to the other before the other sighed and took it back, wrapping his wand in it and mumbling lowly, "_Aguamenti_," and returning the now dampened piece of cloth to Draco's hand.

"So..?" He mumbled so quietly he was amazed the other boy had heard him at all, dabbing at his lip, wiping his mouth free of blood, and cleaning his hands before daring a glance to the other's face. He was smiling a little and rubbing the back of his neck. "Did she know? Is it possible? Or is it one of those curses that can't be reversed?" He couldn't withhold the desperation in his voice. With a backward glance the other said slowly.

"She reckons there's a book on it in the Restricted Section; you swear not to go blabbing if she takes a look tonight?" Draco could only nod and look at him incredulously. Was it really that easy? A book away from escaping the grasps of Severus Snape and his horrible ways? It seemed too simple, too much to be true. But a little smile pulled at his lips as he turned his head to give a glance in Granger's direction, who was looking hopefully over at them. When he nodded Weasley gave a thumbs up.

"Do you really..think it's that easy, Weasley? Just a book and it's done with?" He voiced his worries as they pretended to look busy, scrounging about in hopes of finding something unknown. For a long time there was silence, Draco was kneeling, much to his displeasure and pain, as he gazed past some bushes. Trying to remember what they were supposed to be finding, but having no luck whatsoever. When he turned his head to look at the boy standing next to him, he found the other was lost in thought.

"I think so. I mean..'Mione usually gets us what we need from books, saved our arses more times than I can remember really." He knelt down next to Draco, who raised his brows in a silent question, but didn't speak it. "Listen..Draco," He started, picking at some leaves from a bush rather than looking at him, "If this..uh counter thing works and all," He glanced at the blond out of the corner of his eye and shrugged a little. "You think..you could tell me? I mean, you don't gotta, I know we're s'posed to be all..you know. But it's really unnerving to see you like this, I kinda miss that smarmy, stuck up git you used to be right about now. This is just bloody depressing," He chuckled softly, looking away again.

At first Draco stared, completely shocked at the other's words, he was supposed to snap a rude remark in turn for that, insult him and his family, his friends, something to remind the two that there was a rivalry between them and that they hated each other. But he couldn't bring himself to think of something smart to say. His eyes stuck in one spot on the ground, sighing quietly. "It's bad, Weasley-"""Hey, it's not really fair that you expect me to go with first names when _you're_ still calling _me _**Weasley**, now is it?" The blond chuckled and rolled his eyes, hugging his knees, "Yeah, right. Ron then, it's pretty bad. I dunno who I should tell, if I should tell them at all really."

He flinched; a hand was on him again, touching him. He barely registered the fact he was on the ground until Ron was leaning over him with a hand outstretched, looking concerned and muttering slowly, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to.." He helped Draco to his feet and watched as the boy brushed himself off, not noticing the way his face contorted in pain with every movement. Finally he was back on the task at hand. "Well, like I said, you don't have to. But I'd like to you to be able to trust me and all, I'm not that big of a git all the time," He turned on his heel when Hagrid called for the end of classes, "Give it some thought will you?"

As Ron rejoined his friends and headed back to the castle for lunch he barely noticed the way Draco limped, Hermione was the one who pointed it out. Even she, who hated Draco more than most people for the way he'd treated her over the years, looked worried for him. Harry just shrugged and pushed his hands into his pockets, not particularly pleased at the sudden lack of conflict between them and the snake. Ron was the first to speak out of the three of them, watching Draco with a frown.

"I don't get it, what could be so bad?" He asked lowly, worried someone might over hear them if he spoke too loudly, Hermione looked lost in thought, but finally looked from her friends to the Slytherin and back again. "He's really off, Dra--..Malfoy, I mean..did you see how he flipped on me this morning when I grabbed him? I don't think I've ever seen Malfoy so..scared. It's a bit unnerving, yeah? Hard to hate a guy who looks scared for his life." He sighed, perplexed by the situation at hand.

His brain hurt so much from the confusing problem it took him a minute or so to realize that not only had Hermione stopped but she now had a hand clasped to her mouth. Harry had a hand on her shoulder and was trying to get her to talk. Finally the hand fell and she stared at Ron, her eyes swimming with tears. "Don't either of you understand?" She breathed out pitifully, grabbing a hand full of her hair. "He's limping, he's jumpy, not himself, looks sickly. People have been saying he was even _crying_. He wants to reverse a jinx..or curse..whatever it turns out to be that's keeping him from talking about something, _and_ you said it yourself, Ron. He's terrified of people touching him."

Realization hit Harry, but Ron was still standing there staring at her like she'd sprouted a second head, what did any of that have to do with the problem at hand? After she wiped some tears from her face-one thing he always resented about her was she was so bloody weepy-she spoke in a shaky voice. "Honestly Ronald, are you that thick?" He felt his cheeks grow hot, but gave her a look that told her to continue, so she did. "Don't you get it, Ron? Draco's been.." She seemed to be fighting to the right words; finally she spoke again, sighing a little and staring at the ground, "Ron..someone's hurting him. I'm not going to jump to conclusions just yet," Her eyes followed Draco with a renewed sadness, "If I'm right..it **is** terrible..I can't believe..someone could do that. I'll admit he's foul, but..even Draco doesn't deserve that kind of punishment." She breathed out slowly, hugging herself.

It was warm and sunny outside, but it felt like someone had just dunked Ron into a vat of ice-cold water. Slowly he resurfaced from his shock, the color drained from his face. He turned his head sideways to catch a glimpse of Draco's retreating form. His stomach churned painfully and he shook his head. "..Merlin..that's just.." He whispered, running a hand over his face, but Hermione made him swear to keep his mouth shut and the three continued onto the Great Hall, an eerie silence washing over them.


	4. Worshiping Porcelain & Fractured Skulls

**Here's chapter four, sorry I'm only doing one chapter a day, but I can't write this one fast enough to be updating like crazy ): I'm trying my best but I'm really worried that people aren't liking it. I don't want to rush the process, which is why so much is happening and it's not an automatic "I have a cure for the problem and I love you and we're together" in over five chapters kind of thing. I'm gonna try and put it into a decent plot. But I promise Draco will be out of Snape's clutches very soon. **

**For now, mature content. Twice mentioned scenes of non-consensual sexual interaction.**

**XxDess  
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Worry coiled tightly around Draco throughout lunch. His stomach churned and ached for food but every time he looked at the plate in front of him he felt the urge to rush to the closest bathroom. After nearly fifteen minutes of contemplation and dark glances at the trio of lions staring at him with pity, he forced down a mouthful of whatever his fork touched and swallowed with a cringe. His hand shot to his stomach as a wave of nausea washed over him. A pale hand plunged forward, grabbing his goblet and taking down a mouthful of pumpkin juice. When it didn't help he was on his feet and out of the Great Hall. Before he knew it he was half-way down the e corridor, barely managing to get through the door before he buckled over the closest toilet. The sound of retching filled the empty room, bouncing off the walls, his small frame shaking as he choked up what little bit of food he'd barely managed to get into his stomach.

After what seemed like hours the heaves stopped and he spat, wiping his face as tears fell in to mingle with his sick. As he rested there with half-lidded eyes spilling hot tears over his reddened face he heard the door open, followed by footsteps. With a great effort he rose to his feet and spat once more. He refused to be seen like this, with a sigh he flushed the toilet in front of him and limped towards the sinks with a hand over his gut. His head was spinning and his nostrils burned with the putrid smell on his lips. A shaking hand turned the faucet, cupping both together he gathered cool water and splashed it onto his face, gathering a mouth full and spitting it out again a few times. Once he was deemed clean, both hands moved to grip the white sink, Draco leaned forward a little, staring at himself. He barely registered the other inhabitant of the room, or that he was talking to him, not responding to the distant murmur.

Droplets of water ran down his sallow face, his eyes were cloudy and dark purple rings were beginning to form under them. His cheeks were tinged a slight red, other than the splotchy red spots he was whiter than the porcelain bowl he'd just spilled his guts into. When a flash of red showed up in the mirror a hand grasped his shoulder he screamed and fell. The last thing that hit him before he lost his ability to see straight was a throbbing pain in his forehead and a set of wide blue eyes staring at him.

_The hands were back once more, pinning him, forcing him down as pain flared through him. His lips opened in a silent scream and something hot was poured past his lips, dripping along his chin. The sensation made him lurch and once more he was gagging and spitting up what little that had been in his stomach. There was a weight on his chest and stomach; his arms were being tied down. He screamed again."No! Ge-get off of me!" He pleaded, thrashing about and whimpering, new tears surfaced. That cold, harsh voice was in his ears again. "Draco!" It snapped angrily, a hand struck him across the face, the voice changed. It was frantic and boyish, "Draco, snap out of it!" _

In a flash of blinding white his eyes flew open and he was staring up at the pale face of Ron Weasley, his enemy, the one who wouldn't leave him alone. And now, as he looked around at his surroundings at a weak attempt of distraction to lower his heart rate and breathe normally, he realized the boy had also brought him up to the Hospital Wing. He found himself staring at the brightly lit room for the third time that day. He realized with a jolt of terror that he couldn't see out of his left eye, another jerk of fear coiled up when his arms wouldn't move up to examine the area. Again he was thrashing and trembling, screaming, anything to break free.

"Draco, calm down!" Ron urged, fighting with himself to not touch him again, figuring it would only make things worse. The sound of buckles unsnapping filled the boy's ears and his arms were free. He reached up and touched the area where his eye should have been. It brushed over a bandage and he sighed with relief, it was simply covered, he wasn't blind. Finally he rested back, staring at the ceiling with half-lidded eyes. After a minute or so he took a breath and asked in a gravelly voice, his throat burned from the stress of speaking.

"What happened?" His gaze refused to falter from the intense staring contest he seemed to be having with the ceiling. There was silence for a long time and he found Ron wasn't there, but was talking to Pomfrey, who was nodding with a little smile, again like the first time he'd been to her that day the smile wasn't touching her eyes at all. Without influence to keep them open his eyelids fluttered shut, just listening as hard as he could to try and make out the conversation.

_"He just fell? Honestly, Mr. Weasley, he really did some damage. This is the __**third**__ time today Mr. Malfoy has been to see me..Is something going on?"  
"No, no, not at all, ma'am. He's not been feeling well, in potions he was tired and hurt himself a bit, it was an accident. And the bathroom, really I wanted to bring him up here before he got hurt. I reckon there's something wrong with him, Madam Pomfrey. Most likely he's coming down with something, yeah? He just got all dizzy and hit his head on the sink."_

_ "Yes, yes, alright. Well..go on then. I'll give you a note, you'll need to return to classes."_

Draco sat up slowly, his head throbbing. So he'd fallen and hurt himself? A quiet little chuckle passed his lips and he thought it was a likely story in his state. But he couldn't remember if that was the honest truth, everything was foggy. Slowly he opened his eyes, leaning back against the pillows behind him and cradling his head in his hands.

"Ah, how are you feeling, dear?" Pomfrey's voice sounded amplified a hundred times over, he groaned in response and a sad smile tugged at her thin lips. "Yes, yes, I imagined as much. But how else are you going to feel when you spit up you potion?" He blinked, causing a whole new wave of pain to wash over him and looked at her.

"Potion?" He croaked softly in his broken, cracked voice, his throat felt like he'd drank liquid fire, sighing he ran his fingers over the pale skin and swallowed hard. Before he could register it a glass of water was floating in front of him and Pomfrey was un-corking a bottle of some potion, it was steaming slightly. She hadn't responded, so he sipped at the water, it made his stomach ache and burn, but he didn't stop until it was drained and a wrinkled hand was holding out the potion.

"Drink up, it'll help the pain. I've mended your wounds, though I expect you'll be in quite a bit of pain, you fractured your skull," She made a tutting noise with her tongue and summoned a tin with yellow paste in it. He raised his brows as she flicked her wand, the bandages around his head unraveled and fell into a neat pile next to her chair. "This is for the bruising," She answered his unasked question and began dabbing it on the area above his eye, then around the outside of it. He flinched and bit his tongue as she did so. It hurt, he wanted to scream at her, but he held it back and took a deep breath before sipping at the potion. It took all his energy not to spit it out. It was foul, worse than foul, downright disgusting. He barely managed to down it all, but much to his pleasure the pain eased up throughout his entire body. Thankful for the added effect of his aching backside being relieved a smile tugged at his lips.

"May I go now?" He asked quietly, he didn't have the energy to be snide with her, not right now, he just wanted this damn day to be over. When she gave him a stern look he felt himself grow irritated, but she gave a curt nod and flicked her wand once more. A quill on her desk scribbled away and a note was floating in front of him, excusing him for being late to his afternoon classes. With difficulty Draco found himself back on his feet, running a hand through his hair. He was surprised to feel dried up blood, but didn't bother with it. "Thank you," He spoke curtly and hurried towards the door, the lack of pain throughout his back and tailbone was greatly appreciated.

Before he knew it the corridors were filling with students, all heading towards the Great Hall for dinner. How long had he been out for? Without thinking he brought a hand to rest against his slightly tender forehead and sighed. Straight from the infirmary to Snape's clutches, it seemed. He wasn't happy about that in the least. His main issue was not getting there before Weasley, he didn't want to give the Potions Master a chance to hurt him if he could help it. So with a heavy sigh he found himself tailing the red-head, always just a few steps behind. He didn't want to risk letting him hurt the other boy, either.

Finally after what seemed forever they were standing outside of the Potions room, Ron was suddenly aware of Draco but before he could open his mouth the door was open and Snape was standing there with narrowed eyes, arms crossed over his chest. When neither of the two moved or spoke Snape made the first move, stepping out of the doorway and casting a dark glance at Draco.

"Weasley, you may go ahead and get started, I need a word in private with Mister Malfoy," He hissed darkly, Ron groaned and headed towards the scummy cauldrons, apparently Snape had been bluffing about the flobberworm mucus, but cleaning cauldrons didn't seem to be any better for Ron. When Draco stood perfectly still Snape grabbed his arm. It took all of his self-control not to scream, or run, not to fight him, but he allowed himself to be forced into Snape's office. Trembling from head to toe, he was already in tears. Surely the man wouldn't do anything with Weasley in the next room? For some reason Draco could see him being the type of person that would.

"Thought you were getting out of the detention I had planned for you, Mister Malfoy?" Snape's voice snapped the blond out of his thoughts, he was now staring up at the man with tear-filled eyes, gritting his teeth and shaking his head as his eyes fell to the floor again. His small frame shook slightly with the silent sobs, he vaguely heard the words, "_Muffliato_" before the pain set in. He felt his lip oozing blood, head jerked slightly to one side from the force of Snape's strike. Only after it caught up to him what had happened did he dare move, staring up at the man as he attempted to stop the tears flowing freely from his cheeks.

"If I hear you've hurt yourself and gone to Madam Pomfrey one. More. Time. You'll regret it, Malfoy." He snarled darkly, gripping the frail shoulders of the now-horrified Draco and forcing him to his knees. The Slytherin just knelt there, numb and sobbing as he waited for his punishment. A visible cringe emitted from him as the sound of a zipper filled the room. His eyes were closed before he was struck again. Whimpering quietly he peered up at Snape, his mouth and cheek throbbing, the blood still pouring slowly from his lips. "Dry it up, boy, and keep your eyes open," He hissed through gritted teeth, letting the last of his clothes covering his lower half fall to the floor. Draco found a spot to stare at behind the Potions Master, but knew it wouldn't do. One of those calloused hands gripped the back of his head, coiling its fingers painfully in his tresses, and his lips were forced up against the tip of Snape's disgusting need.

"Go on then." The older man barked, and fear gripped at Draco at the idea of being struck again, though admittedly it was far better than the other things he could be doing to him. Slowly, forcibly he let the organ slip into his mouth, beyond there he had no control. He did exactly what was asked of him, hoping it would end quickly. Right now the thought of cleaning cauldrons sounded like a pleasure cruise. Every time his eyes fell closed Snape would force himself so deep that Draco gagged and had to fight to breathe, he felt nails dig into his skull and draw blood when this happened, and soon learned to focus on a pale area of Snape's stomach. It barely worked, before he had been able to close his eyes, he could pretend it wasn't happening, that it was a bad dream. But like this it was impossible to hide from the reality.

Much to Draco's pleasure, and disgust, it was over fairly quickly, a shot of foul, salty liquid coated his tongue, burned his throat and he was thrown to the floor. His head collided with the leg of Snape's desk, but the man didn't notice. Or if he did he certainly didn't seem to care very much, he just pulled his trousers back up and forced the wounded blond to his feet by jerking a handful of hair until he complied. Another strike, hard knuckles colliding with his fragile jaw.

"If I hear that you've been speaking to that filthy mudblood again, or Weasley, any of them, you can expect more than a few bruises." He barked fiercely. Though, whether to cover up for himself or because he had a hint of decency Draco wasn't sure-but assumed it to be the first option- the man waved his wand and the wounds were gone. He forced a bottle into the blond's hands and narrowed his eyes. "And if you don't start eating you'll be hurting far worse. Believe me. Take that every night, I'll know if you haven't." He seemed to be struggling with the urge to hit him again, but simply opened his door and forced the boy back into the classroom.

Ron looked up at him with furrowed brows, but he just shrugged and quickly got to work. The sooner they were finished the better. His stomach ached with hunger, surely Snape would allow them to go to dinner after this. He had mentioned Draco needed to eat, of course he'd let him, right? Draco sent a nervous glance towards the door, but picked up a cauldron and began cleaning manually.

Draco was grateful to find that Snape indeed let them out thirty or so minutes later to go to the Great Hall. It was nearly empty, but food was still out, and without shame the blond forced food past his lips. It seemed that his sickness had passed, even though the food refused to wash away the horrid taste of Snape that filled his mouth. It eased his pain, if only a bit, and he ate a decent meal for the first time that day. Slowly, once he'd had his fill, he rose to his feet and was off. On the way he made sure he was near other Slytherins so Snape wouldn't have an opportunity to grab him.

If he'd hoped that would work he was horribly, horribly wrong. As he attempted to sneak past the Potions room Snape's voice called out to him, "May I have a word, Mister Malfoy?" And he was back in that horrible place, the door firmly shut. His clothes were covering the floor, Snape behind him grabbing his hips so tightly he feared bruises would form. He was bleeding again, before the horrible torture of ravaging his body the man had seen it fit to beat him. Now he was plunging as deeply as possible into Draco's aching frame for the fourth time that night, digging his nails into those pale sides.

As it had the last time, a guttural grunt marked the end of his torture and he was searching for his clothes, blood oozing from quite a few different wounds that covered his body. Three times now he'd lost his footing under shaking knees and was on the floor. All the while Snape watched with a sick pleasure, casting a quick "_Scourgify"_ followed by a few different "_Episky_" spells to do away with any evidence. All that was left were the terrible scars left beyond the blond's skin, burned into his thoughts. Snape hadn't been kind enough to ease the pain bursting from his backside, though. Once he was fully clothed and hugging himself, though no longer crying, Snape sent him on his way.

It didn't take quite as long to get back to the common room this time, he was getting used to the pain that shot through his legs, it wasn't nearly as bad as the first night. He crawled through the entrance and stumbled towards the dormitory. As the boy had done the first time he quickly discarded his stained clothes and re-dressed into his night attire. Now sitting on the edge of his bed with a freshly cleaned knife taken from his Potions kit, he contemplated the best place to release a bit of his built-up rage and irritation. Finally he slid out of the cotton pajama bottoms and placed them neatly next to himself.

Before he could think it through the cool blade was gliding, leaving trails of crimson in their wake, it sliced through his pale flesh as though it was butter. Slowly his hand stopped. The cuts weren't terribly deep, but they were bleeding profusely, coating his pale thighs in sheets of shimmering red. Slowly he grabbed his earlier discarded dress shirt and wrapped his left thigh, the other was untouched. For now, at least. Once his leg was sufficiently tied up he tapped it with his wand and whispered lowly, "_Episky_," and removed the now sopping wet button-up.

Before Draco's eyes were four pale pink scars running from the inside of his upper thigh to the opposite side. He couldn't help the smile that tugged at his lips, the blond's head was spinning widly, black forming in the corners of his eyes. He mustered the energy to scourgify his shirt and tuck the knife away before curling up under his blankets and drifting off into sleep. But to say it was peaceful would be as far from the truth as possible.


	5. Veritaserum and Mudbloods

**Here it is, chapter five. :)**

**Thanks so much for the reviews and all. I'm glad to hear some people like it, and I hope you continue to enjoy it throughout.**

**Warning you now, self-abuse mentioned: slightly more detailed than usual.  
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**For now enjoy the latest chapter,**

**XxDess  
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Once more Draco forced himself into consciousness, shaking off another night of horrid nightmares that filled him with fear and revulsion. He managed to catch a shower with much less trouble than anticipated. After the boy was dry, dressed, and presentable he wandered out into the corridors with his hands in his pockets, feeling a bit better with the thought of his scars freshly painted into his mind. It worried him briefly that he had created his own torture to take his mind off of Snape's. But those thoughts didn't last very long.

He was resting awkwardly at the Slytherin table; the pain was much worse now than it had been before. Quietly he sought to distract himself by nibbling at the whites of an egg he'd served onto his plate. He didn't dare eat more than a few bites of anything; fearful he'd be in the bathroom again, spilling it all up.

His attempt at a decent mood was wiped away when he left the Great Hall, only to be followed by a nosy lion. "Can I ask you something?" Ron asked quietly, hands in his pockets, looking at the floor. Draco's eyes narrowed and he turned to raise a brow, lips set into a hard frown. It was his fault he'd gotten double the torture last night. He was to blame for the extra suffering Snape had forced upon him. Suddenly it wasn't very hard to be Malfoy.

"Piss off, Weasley," He snapped, hands curled into fists, the blue eyes widened with confusion, his face flushing red as he stepped a little closer. In return Draco took three steps back. This continued until they were in an empty corridor, like some strange dance, for every four steps of advance that were taken, four to five steps of fleet were returned. They were in agreement without realizing, to get away from sight, where no one would bother them.

"..What?" The other stared at him, once they were alone, obviously he'd assumed the two were on a friendly basis. He took another step forward, Draco retaliated with one advance himself, glowering. If he was seen talking to this blood traitor the punishment could only get worse. His teeth grit against each other as he took a deep breath.

"I **said:** 'piss. off.' Are you so stupid you can't even comprehend two simple little words, Weasley?" He spat, the fists tightening at his sides. "You're making everything worse. Just go away!" When he received no response his feet were moving again, before the blond realized it he was nearly to his first class. Every inch of him trembling, slowly he slid down the wall, burying his face in his hands. Confusion and conflict settled into the blond's brain, _Fucking Hell..what've I done? It's either..be punished for talking to the git even if I need his help..or give up and cut off all communication, either way.._His head shook, slowly gathering the energy to rise to his feet. With a grimace he ran a pale hand through the neatly slicked back hair that clung to his head.

A weak groan passed his lips as the hand jerked back, as though burned, the Slytherin cringed at a thought: Snape's fingers had nestled themselves in those tresses, used them as a weapon, jerked him about. A shudder of revulsion overtook him, "..can't even touch my fucking hair thanks to that bastard," He breathed out, wiping a bit of sweat from his brow and straightening up. After that Draco refrained from making contact with himself unless it was necessary, feeling more tainted and repulsed with every passing thought.

The days slipped slowly into weeks, agonizingly dragging into painful months of torture. The potions Snape forced onto him increased as he began to worship and fawn over the porcelain bowls after every meal. Draco no longer spoke to anyone unless it was absolutely unavoidable, forcing anyone who dared confront him away until they learned not to bother. Scars scattered themselves neatly across his thighs, soon moving on to his shoulders, by Halloween he began marking his wrists.

"Draco.." Pried Blaise over the Halloween Feast, staring at him with that damned look. Why did everyone look at him like that now? Everywhere he went it was either amusement dancing in someone's eye or pity. He slid a tiny sliver of treacle tart into his mouth, regretting it, it would only add to the foul acid that he'd be spilling up once they were released. When he didn't respond the other moved to sit next to him. No one had dared to do so since he'd last threatened to jinx Pansy within an inch of her life. "Draco please, look at me will you? Say something..you don't talk to anyone anymore.." Silver-ware clinked against golden plates, pale fingers released their own, now empty gray eyes were narrowed and focusing on the worried face of someone he'd once called a friend. That seemed like an entire life-time ago. Laughing and picking on Potter, his friends, making it a ritual to enjoy his embarrassment.

Now the idea made him feel queasy. He hardly could compare social humiliation to what he went through every few nights. Still..something about the idea of tormenting another person made his stomach churn in disgust. "What do you want, Zabini?" He asked darkly, the voice that passed those pale, chapped lips sounded foreign. The sound was strained, cracked, and hoarse from lack of use, though more than that it was hollow, reflecting the dead look of his once vibrant self. Blaise looked taken back at the use of is surname. With a bit of effort he continued, narrowing those cloudy eyes a bit, "What's it to you whom I do or do not speak to? Is it your business if I **feel** like talking?" Draco had to swallow hard, it'd been so long since he last used his voice this much, his throat felt raw. When the other boy struggled to respond, but fell silent, the blond continued. "You don't understand, none of you give a fuck." The malice laced into those words shocked even him, though he refused to let it show. After the first week or two with Snape he'd learned not to show anything unless he was instructed to. The less he felt, the easier it became.

"..Drake, mate, I care. I really do.." Blaise struggled out pitifully, setting those sad eyes on him. It didn't work though; the frail blond was now staring at his plate with half-lidded eyes. A long, uncomfortable silence washed over the two, one struggling for words, the other fighting not to speak. Finally the silence was broken, "Listen to me Draco..I want to help. I really do..but I can't if you don't let me,"

Blaise realized at once these were the wrong words, for the first time in months blood rushed to the blond's sallow cheeks and his fists curled into balls. One long glance at the teacher's table seemed to calm him, though. His eyes were on his plate again, like he'd been scolded, and Draco began to force food slowly past his lips as he'd been doing before Blaise distracted him. At first the black boy looked confused, but when his eyes fell upon Snape-wearing a wicked smile of triumph-he started to understand. Horror washed over him as he thought over what was going on. In the end he refused to believe it, simply because Draco wasn't capable of having that done to him. No, not Draco Malfoy, both feared and respected, no one would ever dare do that to him.

Hermione Granger didn't seem quite as convinced, though, watching the scene unfold from Gryffindor table with sad eyes. Ron had been furious when Draco shoved him away, it had taken quite a bit of effort to explain why the boy had acted as he had. "You have to understand, Ronald, he's been hurt..that much is obvious. I'm not sure who by..but if they're able to do this to him..to keep him under control and put that much fear into him..They must be powerful." He didn't want to listen, but she'd finally calmed him down. Over the few months that had passed she watched Draco deteriorate mentally, destroy himself physically, and remove himself socially. It was horrible, to say the least. Especially the first time she caught on he was being treated with a potion she could only assume was Beautifying or Beautification treatment. He'd gone from being sickly and scrawny to something like one under the glamour of a Veela.

The downfall of one of their biggest enemies had driven her to continue searching every inch of the Library-Restricted Section included-and finally she'd stumbled upon the name of the curse a few weeks prior. She had been working on a way to reverse this, but was troubled to find she would need veritaserum. It was three nights away from the complete cycle and she hoped that her plan to get it to him would work.

As soon as the feast was over, Hermione cornered Blaise Zabini, who looked both irritated and revolted that someone like her would dare talk to him, when she whispered a quick, "It's about Draco," He seemed persuaded and the pair slipped away from the other students returning to their dormitories or common rooms to rest and celebrate the holiday. He kept his distance from her, dark eyes focused anywhere but on the girl next to him. Hermione bit her tongue to keep from snapping at him. It was well known he was prejudice against her kind.

Once the two were safely hidden away in Moaning Myrtle's lavatory, Hermione spoke. "I'm sure you've realized just about as much as everyone else that Draco's not been himself lately," She held her hand up when the boy opened his mouth to speak, giving a stern look and continuing, "I believe he's been abused, and possibly is continuing to be, and he hinted to Ron he was under a Tongue-Tying Curse, so.." Her eyes fell on the potion resting in a cauldron nearby, running a hand through her bushy hair.

"I looked into it. It seems there is a possibility the curse may be counteracted with veritaserum," She explained, hands on her hips. looking proud, "This is where you come in," He raised his brows, refusing to admit he was impressed, not wanting to give a mudblood credit. Especially for where he failed, in helping his friend. So he simply nodded, waiting for her to continue. His suspicions of Snape were rising now, making him shudder and wonder briefly if Draco was back in the common room or in the grasps of the head of their House. A visible shudder ran through him at the thought and he shook it off.

"Whoever it is that's hurting Draco obviously caught wind that Ron and I were trying to help him, he refused to have anything to do with him the very day after he'd asked for us to do him a favor." She explained quietly, over-large teeth digging into her lower lip. It seemed like she was on the verge of tears, the damned girl was always crying. "I need you to find a way to slip this to him. Three drops should suffice, but to be safe you might want to add a bit more. Do you think that's possible?" The Slytherin boy nodded, arms crossed tightly over his chest. If it weren't for the fact that Draco needed this, his pride would've refused her, he'd have stormed off laughing. Even reported her, but he couldn't do that if there was a chance of getting the old Draco back.

"In three day's time it'll be completed, I'll leave it for you in your potions kit-""No." It was the first he'd spoken since Draco had chewed him out, "No I..don't think Potions is a very good class to do it in. Professor Snape would notice. Care of Magical Creatures is the best option." She seemed surprised, but nodded.

"So you'll help, then?" A snort escaped him, rolling his dark eyes and letting them fall to stare at her as if she was an idiot. Her face went red at the conviction in his eyes, but he nodded, looking away again with a heavy frown.

"Don't think this makes us friends, mudblood. I'm only doing it because of Draco."

Far from the safety of the girl's lavatory Draco was once more being tortured by Snape. He seemed especially unpleasant this time around and took to smacking him around a bit more than usual. Eventually, after at least an hour or more, he released the blond and cast his usual precautionary spells. From cleaning, to clearing of cuts and bruises, finally back to the horrid Tongue-Tying Curse.

The blond was far over crying, he walked on weak legs, only stopping when he was safely rested on the four-poster bed of Slytherin's third year dormitory. It took less time than usual to seek out a weapon. Often he would go with the fresh potions blade; tonight he needed more than clean cuts.

After a good ten or so minutes he found it. It was a knife from his first Potions kit, old and broken, chipped and shattered here and there. For a long moment Draco turned the slightly flimsy blade in his hands. The Slytherin hesitated, nearly deciding against the idea as he stared down at his pale skin, glowing ever so slightly in the moonlight that spilled from the nearest window onto his bed. With a grimace the blond took in a deep breath, fingers tightening around the handle of the knife.

It didn't move nearly as smooth as the new blade as he dug it into his left wrist. The little chips got hung, ripping up bits of flesh rather than cutting clean, tearing away at his perfect skin, it took a lot of effort not to scream. A yelp or two passed through his clenched teeth, but other than that he kept himself silent. Once he'd done this two more times he tossed the ruined blade to the floor.

His eyes lingered on the deep red coating his wounds. They were rugged and tiny bits of the old knife were stuck in the skin. Black spots flecked over his vision, the room gave a gut-wrenching lurch. Hastily the chunks of metal were torn from his wounds, his wand nearly slipping out of his weak fingers. It took the rest of his effort to not only heal his wounds but clean the blood away. Getting rid of all the evidence.

As the weak blond crawled under the safety of his covers, fingers tracing the ragged new scars, he made a mental note to never try that again. Slipping off into blackness without hearing Blaise enter the room. The other boy smelled the blood, it was no longer there, but it was like every other night for the past few months. The stench was impossible to miss, like the scars that were scattered over his friend's once perfect and flawless skin.

"Granger, you filthy mudblood, this plan better work or I'll have your head.." The boy growled into his pillow before drifting off into sleep himself.


	6. Suddenly Not So Simple

The following days that it took Hermione's veritaserum to be completed went well. Though she was unceremoniously at the point of nearly tearing hair from her head every time she went to check on the potion to find it was incomplete. She'd been on edge since the process started but now it was horrible, even the smallest noise had her jumping from her seat and nearly screaming.

"You look bad, 'Mione. Have you slept at **all** lately?" Ron inquired over breakfast; she was cradling a steaming coffee in her fingers. Rarely did she drink it, but she was barely able to focus what with so many classes to keep up in, piles of homework, Harry's Sirius Black troubles, and now tending to a potion that might very well save someone's life. She was undoubtedly the most miserable Gryffindor at the table.

"Thank you, Ronald, always so observant," She sighed, sipping at the overly sweetened drink between her hands as she thought through the process again. The book she'd been reading on Tongue-Tying Curses had never been totally positive that any dose of Veritaserum would work. But she was riding on that tiny possibility that it would work.

Hermione had never been so thankful in her life when she'd been able to complete the potion that morning, it now rested in her bag in a tiny black bottle filled to the brim. One glance at the Slytherin table told Hermione that Blaise was just as anxious as she was, and he shot her dirty looks to further her belief he didn't think her plan would work. Harry had long since given up on talking to Hermione when she got like this and Ron was just..Ron. He couldn't be clever enough to spot when it was and wasn't okay to bother a girl.

On the way to Care of Magical Creatures she nearly killed the nosy red-head; he was driving her mental with all of his questions, suspicions, and worries. Finally she'd shoved him off with Harry, shooting the pair a dirty look. With hands neatly tucked into her pockets, the Gryffindor walked slowly, nervously over to Blaise. He looked to be making himself busy by examining one of the blast-ended skrewts that was-for the moment-fast asleep. Without warning Hermione's hand slipped a little bottle into one of the pockets of his robes.

Before the Slytherin could respond to the action the bushy-haired girl was gone. Taking a look around to ensure no prying eyes were on him, the bottle was slid from his robes. A small note was attached to the glass with a red ribbon.

_Blaise,_

_ Be careful with the quantities, please, too much might do some severe damage. No more than five drops, if it doesn't work take him to Dumbledore. I don't want it to go to that level, but whether my idea works or not, we're helping Draco. I don't care if he fights, please take him if you don't get a proper answer. Don't ask how I found out, because I won't tell you, but his password is Lemon Drops._

_Hermione Granger_

The boy scowled, crumpling the note and stuffing it back into his pocket with a heavy sigh. The class went by rather quickly, horribly thanks to the skrewts, but quickly nonetheless. Everyone managed to get away without severe harm done to them, and Blaise was the first to enter the Great Hall for lunch. He was quick with the Veritaserum, not wanting to be seen. Not by the students and especially not the teachers, he was thankful to find Snape hadn't entered the Hall himself, yet. Something about the man unnerved Blaise; he could barely stand being in the same room as him now that his suspicions were growing more and more morbid.

Thankfully a distraction tore the boy away from horrible thoughts of Snape and what he might be doing to Draco, by said boy himself coming in and taking his usual seat. "Hey, Drake," He greeted softly, the blond raised a brow and went to eating. Per usual the first interest he took was in the goblet of –now tainted with the flavorless veritaserum- pumpkin juice. It seemed to be his favorite these days.

There wasn't a single word passed between the two until the goblet was drained. The blond made a funny face, but continued eating without any further hint he had caught on to the plan what so ever. Blaise sat there, not touching his plate, simply watching his friend from the corner of his eye, catching the mudblood doing the same from across chattering Ravenclaws at their own table.

It took a hell of a lot of concentration to muster up the energy to focus on his own food, eager to question his friend, he didn't want others hearing in on them, though. So he took his time, waiting for a few of the closest Slytherins to move on their way. Once Blaise decided they were safe to speak his fork was on the table, deep brown eyes set on the pale, falsely beautiful face of Draco.

"Hey.." He brushed his hand over the boy's shoulder, watching as the frail figure tensed, gripping his fork so tightly his knuckles went whiter than his unnaturally pale skin. "Sorry, um..you think you could tell me..a bit about what's happening to you? So..I can help?" He asked softly, not wanting to draw attention to himself or Draco. His heart pounded excitedly against his breastbone, threatening to burst through. Was it really going to work? Would he finally find out if his suspicions were true?

"I told you, Blaise," Draco's voice drawled lowly, he was surprised to find he felt compelled to speak, like he had no choice but to be truthful. "I can't say, I'd like to tell someone so it will go away and I can get help, but I can't." What little amount of color that was dancing along those pale cheeks drained away, wide stormy eyes were narrowed accusingly at Blaise. "..what did you do?" Thin fingers brushed over pale pink lips, surprised he'd let out so much information.

What had Blaise done to him? Why did he go and say so much? Usually an 'it's none of your business' would've sufficed. So why was it he just spilled his longing for help, for someone to rescue him, to this boy before him? Draco's face screwed up into a mixture of pain and irritation, conflict so obviously written over his face. Finally Blaise spoke up against those narrowed, dark eyes.

"It was the mudblood's idea..Drake. She said..She said that it would counter that curse..the um.." His features were locked into a look of concentration now, whereas Draco looked utterly horrified, would Snape find out? Finally Blaise's voice brought him back. "Tongue-Tying Curse. Said it might help you to tell someone."

"You went behind my back..With a **mudblood** to give me something **she** cooked up? Did it ever cross your mind that she might have concocted something to harm me, Blaise?" He spat violently, he knew full well he was bluffing, but this seemed to make the other realize how badly he'd messed up with this. "And it bloody well didn't work, now, did it? I haven't been able to tell you that I've been—" He bit his tongue, refusing to speak, groaning and taking a breath the blond looked away. "Give it up, Blaise, I did." With that the boy rose to his feet, shaking his head and flicking some bangs from his eyes. The effect didn't work.

"Drake, you've been..what?" Blaise angrily asked, trailing behind him as he exited the Hall, so riled up at the thought that he'd nearly spilled his secret that he didn't recognize the gargoyle statue until Blaise grumbled under his breath,

"Lemon Drops," And it sprung aside, before Draco could imagine fighting or running he was pushed onto the revolving staircase and Blaise was behind him. The blond's face grew dark, his eyes narrowing dangerously as he raised his fists. "Blaise. You're going to let me out or I'm going to hex you so badly you won't even know who you are when I'm finish-""No, you're not Draco." He breathed out quietly, pushing the boy forward and off of the stair-case.

Draco stared, mouth slightly open, the headmaster was standing by his door with upraised brows, pushing a piece of yellow candy into his mouth and fixing those damned X-ray-like blue eyes upon him. A knowing smile pulled at his lips, watched the two wordlessly, Blaise was equally confused as to why the headmaster was waiting for them there. It seemed an odd place to be rather than inside his office.

"Thank you for your services, Mr. Zabini. Ten points to Slytherin, you may go now." He smiled, that crinkly eyed, all knowing smile that had Draco's blood boiling, heat rising to his cheeks when he heard his friend step forward. "But sir I-""That will be all, Blaise, this is a matter of Draco's personal affairs, once we've settled out whatever has been bothering him, he may tell you if he wishes to do so." Finally his voice rose past his lips, the shock gone, replaced by anger. How dare he act as though he knew everything?

"Excuse me, but I don't have anything to say to you," When his pale form turned to leave he found Blaise gone, the door to the stairway wouldn't open for him. Panic began to rise, he shouldn't be here, he should be at lunch, or heading to Charms, **anywhere** but here. Snape was going to hurt him so much worse than he ever had done before.

"Come with me, Draco, if you please," At first he stood there, defiant and refusing to do as the old fool asked of him, but after a moment or two he realized it was a waste of time and breath to fight the codger. He'd win either way and it wasn't like Draco could tell him anything anyway. Slowly he found himself entering the office of Albus Dumbledore for the first time since he'd started Hogwarts. It was odd, filled with strange objects and dozens of pictures of headmasters passed.

"Have a seat, if you will," The old man pointed with a shriveled old hand towards the chair directly in front of his desk. Reluctantly the blond took a seat, taking to staring at the Sword of Gryffindor rather than to look into those eyes that felt as though their owner was staring into his mind, reading into his thoughts and deepest secrets. "Draco..would you like to tell me what's been happening to you for the past few months? Why you've not been yourself as of late?"

The Slytherin couldn't hide anymore; he turned to face the headmaster with a stone-cold straight face. The urge to be absolutely and ___unequivantly_honest washed over him and he was speaking clearly, emotionlessly, to the man before him. "Absolutely, sir, though I hate to be the bearer of bad news. I've been cursed, the Tongue-Tying Curse, to be exact. Therefore I'm not able to tell you." There they were again, the wrinkles next to his eyes as he smiled, still holding that air of knowledge that had Draco on the verge of lunging across the desk and throttling him.

"A simple curse with a not-so-simple counter-jinx," The man waved his wand, a grotesque feeling of his tongue beginning to swell and then return to its normal state hit him, and then the man smiled and spoke again. "What has been happening, Draco?" The blond was confused; it hadn't hit him until that moment that Dumbledore was addressing him by his first name, rather than a normal, professional surname.

"Is there any reason you have a problem with calling me Mr. Malfoy, as all the other Professors do?" A light danced across the man's bright eyes and he nodded, not answering straight away. It was then Draco realized he was waiting for the answer to his own question, even prompted to ask it again. The boy felt that painfully strong urge to answer to return, before he could stop the words they were out in the open and his secret was no longer as such.

"For the past two months I've been raped, beaten, tortured, and other things of that like by Professor Snape, he's cast the Tongue-Tying Curse to keep me quiet, and this happens at least three or more times a week. Is that the answer you were looking for?" A few surprised squeals and gasps sounded from the surrounding paintings that had, until that moment, been pretending to be asleep in their frames covering the wall behind Dumbledore. But the man in front of him didn't seem surprised in the least; rather, he looked upset that he'd been right. A small nod emitted from him before he spoke. This time the voice that emitted was nothing merry or cheerful, but grave.

"I was afraid you might say that. As for your question, I was under the impression you weren't fond of your surname," He raised his thin, silvery eyebrows, watching for any reaction. Draco looked horrified, but simply nodded, staring at his hands and muttering a quiet, "That's what he calls me. Never used my first name..even when.." A shudder ran through him, gritting his teeth.

"Yes, I thought as much, Poppy informed me you seemed less than pleased to be addressed as such. I'll be taking you to see her, if you'll allow me to." The man was on his feet, waiting for Draco. Who was now horrorstruck, face paler than normal.

"..What is he going to do..when he finds out?" The boy whispered under his breath, now on his feet with his arms wrapped tightly around himself, whimpering lowly with tightly shut eyes. To his surprise a frail hand was on his shoulder, slowly his eyes opened and he looked up at the old man. Half wanting to break him, the other half grateful for his understanding.

"I became aware of these..meetings you were having with Professor Snape within the last few weeks, though I wasn't entirely positive what they included, it wasn't until a few days prior to now I understood. It seems Miss Granger was sneaking off and preparing Veritaserum for you, am I correct?" Though he didn't give Draco time to respond, continuing without missing a beat, "Well I decided I needed to take a look at our dear Professor," the blond glared, his face growing hot at the way Dumbledore spoke of the man, as though he were a child who'd been caught with his hand in a cookie jar. "It seems Severus has been under the influence of a rather powerful Imperius Curse for quite some time, whoever decided to do this didn't seem to have any other motive than to have harm befall you." It felt like someone had dropped steel into his stomach, he wanted to be sick again. It wasn't going to be as simple as getting rid of Snape? "Not to worry, Draco, we've prepared for this. You'll be safe..until we've weeded out whoever it is that's done this. Now, come with me."

Draco's head was spinning so wildly he could hardly find the energy to walk, and not nearly enough to pay any mind as to where his feet were taking him until the familiar lightness of the infirmary was filling his senses. _Someone else..was hurting me through Snape? But..who would do that? _He wondered with a new sense of terror washing over him, _who could possibly be powerful enough to overpower __**Snape**__ for over two months without being discovered? And if they've found out that I've told..who'll be doing this next?_ Suddenly Draco felt a strong distrust towards everyone in the school, thinking that any one of them could be the next to hurt him.


	7. Unexpected Visitor

**I don't really feel too good about this one. Feels like something's missing. Oh well, sorry if it sucks. I'm kinda sick right now so writing isn't coming as easily, I'll try to make the next chapter better. And a huge thanks to Saki Hana for her reviews, they really help me :) Kinda let me know at least one person is enjoying it.**

**Also huge thanks to the amazing Jess for giving me criticism, reading over and helping me to improve the chapters. As she's done for the entire story. **

**XxDess  
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All he wanted was a fresh breeze, a breath of cool air, sunlight. Something to show the life flourishing beyond these damned walls; this room had gone quickly from his safe haven to a prison. Pale, cloudy eyes traveled over the blank white ceiling above him for what seemed like the millionth time. He'd lost count of the days now. It had to have been a week, at least, since he left the damned room. It had everything he needed to stay healthy, maybe that was what made it so frustrating. It had necessities but lacked in things he wanted.

"_Can't I go to classes..and just stay here at night? It can't be that hard to keep an eye on me, can it?" _He'd pleaded with the old man when he'd been informed he was staying in a room near the back of the Hospital Wing all day and wouldn't be taking classes until he left. _"I'm sorry, Draco, it's not safe for you to be out and about until we've discovered who is behind all of it. I know you feel trapped but you must understand, it's for your own safety." _He'd nearly laughed at the words thinking back on them, his own safety? Yeah. More like Dumbledore was keeping him shut up so he couldn't run his mouth, he for one didn't entirely believe this ridiculous Imperius story the head master had fed to him. Though he argued time and time again that Snape wasn't the type to wind up under a curse such as that, especially for so long, Dumbledore had only left him with his blood boiling. Still loyal and understanding towards the Potions Master that had not only scarred him emotionally, took away his purity, and broken him, but had successfully managed to have him locked away from the rest of the world.

It took a moment for the brooding Slytherin to register the click of a door from where he rested, but soon enough he was sitting upright, a frown on his face. He'd expected to see another House Elf there to clean, change his sheets, or something pointless like that. Instead he found himself staring at a pale, freckled boy, who looked entirely lost as to why he was there. Draco frowned a bit harder.

He couldn't find the energy to speak; it seemed that being trapped inside for so long without something to keep him going took the last bits of energy left in him. Neither boy attempted to move towards one another, let alone acknowledge the other's presence. Though the blond noticed how Ron seemed to be looking anywhere but at him. He looked to be hiding and at the same time attempting to make himself known.

It looked as though Ron felt Draco staring, or he'd run out of things to distract himself with, because he finally turned to face him. One look into those cloudy, narrowed eyes made the boy flinch and look away, rubbing the back of his neck. The blond was too focused on those bright eyes to look anywhere else until they were gone.

"Look um..the head master said..I could come visit you..if that's okay." Now Draco fully saw the boy, and noticed why Ron was avoiding his eyes. His lip was swollen and busted; his face covered in dark, brilliantly purple bruises, and his nose appeared to be healing from a nasty break. It looked like he'd been in a fight, those balled up hands were cut up and bruised, too, and Draco swore he could see a busted vein in the red-head's left eye where a deep bruise was forming around the skin. "Since I was..already in here and all that. Mind if I uh..take a seat?"

Draco scoffed and rose from his bed, situating the twisted shirt around him as he did so. He still refused to speak, running his fingers slowly over one of the many flames that were surrounding his room, dancing off the walls. Without a window to keep him from the dark he was granted several bewitched candles. A disgruntled sigh escaped the boy behind him, causing the blond to flinch. He wanted to talk, to sneer at him, yell, something; he just didn't have the drive any more. He couldn't **be** Malfoy. He was just Draco now, thanks to Snape. He couldn't do much of anything anymore. Though the scars continued to blossom once Pomfrey stopped examining them to be sure they were caused by his attacker and not himself.

Thinking of them his fingers began to trail slowly down a deep crevice dug neatly into the underside of his right arm. Briefly he wondered what the boy behind him would think if he could see what he'd done to himself. But the thought passed as quickly as it had arrived, upon hearing said boy speak again. It was a wonderful noise, even if he was irritating, Draco thoroughly enjoyed hearing it. It filled the painful quiet.

"Wow. I can't believe you." Finally Ron's voice pulled him back to reality, causing the blond to turn slowly and face him, features stone-cold as always. Ron looked irritated, his cheeks red and a glint of determination in his eye. But more than that was the unnerving softness they held.

"The Draco I remember..was strong. Total pain in the arse, but a tough little bugger." He snorted, taking a seat on the edge of the blond's bed, much to his dismay, and staring up at him. It was his turn to have conviction in his eyes. His turn to accuse Draco rather than it being the other way around. The broken blond dropped his hand mid-caress, sudden disgust washing over him. He was taken back at the attitude Ron had towards him, even more so when he looked into those damned eyes. Seeing just how much he actually meant his words. _How dare he speak to me like that? Doesn't he know what happened?_ But then it hit him, of course he didn't. No one did. They all probably thought he was being a spoiled prat or hiding from them. Probably all having a good laugh at how he'd been acting and his sudden disappearance.

All that was for sure: They didn't give a damn.

Draco frowned, running a hand through his hair without realizing, as always when he did this it shot back as though he'd been burned. His eyes focused on it now, he stared for a long time, memorizing every curve and crevice. The boy wanted to speak so badly, his throat ached from lack of use; he imagined, momentarily distracted, opening his mouth would cause an onslaught of spiders and cobwebs to spring forth. This image almost made him laugh. Almost. Though he stopped himself before so much as a smile could break through and settled with staring at the floor, ashamed at the idea of laughing. The thought of happiness made him feel sick all over again.

"Draco..come on. Seriously. I'm really starting to miss that stuck up, snide git you used to be." He ran a hand through his own hair, the Slytherin refused to lift his eyes from the floor. His back was pressed to the table behind him, hands gripping it to keep him up right. He felt dizzy again; Pomfrey had explained that the potions he'd been taking mixed with the lack of actual digested food in his system had caused him a serious amount of damage.

"Talk to me." When had the weasel gotten so close to him? When had his filthy hands landed on Draco's shoulders? Pale gray eyes stared up in horror at the boy before him. Despite the gut-wrenching concern, the affection he didn't understand, in them the blond was still terrified of being hurt. Again things happened without his realization. He was now looking at Ron's form, lying on the floor and holding his jaw with a look of shock dancing in those damned eyes. Fresh blood oozed from his previously busted lip. It took a moment or so for him to put two and two together, his now throbbing knuckles made him realize.

"What in the bloody Hell was that for?" He snapped, looking surprised when a pale, red-knuckled hand was reaching out to help him. It took all of Draco's self-control to allow Ron to touch him, even more than that to let him go, prying his fingers from the other's grip as soon as he was back on his feet. The words came before he could stop them.

"You're bleeding." He flinched at the sound. It was far worse than when he'd talked to Blaise, raspy and broken, his throat felt as though someone had torn it open. The words surprised Ron nearly as much as the owner of them; he stared for the longest time. Dumbstruck. The blond stared back, heat rising to his cheeks, he hated that look Ron gave him. Hated how he suddenly cared. Finally Draco veered past him, resting on the far end of his lumpy, twin sized bed. Knees tucked neatly against his chest and his eyes set on the floor. He'd taken to memorizing it, too.

When neither of them spoke right away he forced the words up to end the awkward situation, "Have a seat.." Draco's voice was scarcely more than a whisper, he was handing a little hand-towel -left by the House Elves he supposed- towards the Gryffindor. A quiet 'thanks' was all he received before the boy's mouth disappeared behind the towel.

The tension was horrible, silence unbearable, and the entire situation was awkward. Draco finally broke through it, unable to tolerate it any longer. No, he lived with it every day; he wouldn't neglect it if he had a choice. "What time is it?" It was a trivial question, really, and Ron seemed to think so, too, because the sound of a bemused chuckle was his only response at first. The blond had an unbearable urge to hit him-again-, was it _his_ fault he was trapped away from the world? He could at least be kind enough to allow Draco some inkling of what was going on outside of his prison.

"Somewhere around four I suppose." The boy finally answered, resting back on his hands and watching Draco, wondering how long the other would continue his staring contest with the floor. When he didn't make any hint of a sign that he'd heard Ron, the red-head scowled. "Why?" There it was, a tiny, faint reaction he wasn't entirely ignoring him. It relieved him to no end.

"Why did you come here?" It was frustrating, like talking to a child, they'd sooner ask another question than answer one. He decided it would do him no good at all to pry; it seemed this conversation was simply a one-sided interrogation. So, screwing up his face out of irritation, Ron forced himself to answer. Though he obviously didn't give the right one because Draco looked irritated, even from the side. He smiled a bit; even through all the annoyance he was pleased to see some emotion from the Slytherin.

"To see how you were holding up, people keep saying you've transferred, others think you've gone mental on us or something like that," He chuckled a little, but it hadn't been the question he wanted answered; now those cold eyes were on him. A visible shudder rushed through him; It was unnerving to find nothing when looking into them. Before there had been a mischievous shine to them, a playful, childish glint that made them so..Draco. It was one of the things he'd admired. But now there was nothing.

"I meant why are you here to begin with?" Draco caught a glimpse of unease dance over those deep blue eyes before him, but the other looked away before he could read too much into it, and once more he was staring down the wall. There was another long, awkward pause, that made both of them squirm in unease.

"I had a row with your boys," He admitted after a moment, "Seems that Zabini bloke isn't too fond of 'Mione. Says..she did somethin' to you," He paused, making a face, as if the thought of his friend hurting someone was impossible, "Made you not want to see him," A quiet snort, the closest thing to a laugh he'd had in so long it felt alien to him. "Him and those gits Crabbe and Goyle ganged up on us." Slowly the pale, pointed face was looking at Ron's pained one. It irritated him to see that look etched in the boy's features. More so that he cared.

"I'm alright, Harry wasn't around, but 'Mione got herself jinxed pretty bad, Pomfrey wasn't really happy about that." Those silvery blond brows were upraised in a faint look of interest, posing a question without speaking. When it wasn't answered they fell back into place and he was examining the wounds scattered across the weasel's freckled skin. A pang of guilt washed over him, those were his fault.

"How'd you get in this state if you were dueling?" A weak smile tugged at Ron's lips now, he looked amused, but didn't answer right away, turning his head to stare up at the ceiling, arms rested comfortably behind him to support his weight. The slightest tint of pink rose to Draco's pale cheeks as he watched, adverting his eyes to the pale hands folded neatly in his lap. His fellow Slytherin's reactions were absolutely spot on, though still infuriating, as was the constant urge to drink in Ron's appearance. His face grew hot, finally, to his relief, the other answered.

"Well 'Mione managed to disarm your pals," He shrugged, flicking a bit of hair from his face and looking over at the slightly red-faced Draco, "And I grew up the youngest in a family of all boys, before Ginny. When you're not old enough to use magic and get back at them you learn to do it muggle-style," He looked amused at the thought; the blond shook his head, snorting at the thought. Of course, he of all people would do things in a muggle fashion. "So we brawled a bit, they got off pretty fine,"

Another long pause, "..Dumbledore said..you can talk about what happened now," Part of Draco had been expecting this, his body tensed, now staring at his hands. "..You don't have to tell me, you know?" For the first time in what seemed like ages he didn't find himself panicking when he felt the pressure of Ron's hand pressing down on his arm. Though he suddenly became aware of how weak he was. It made him sick to think, if Weasley was comforting him he must look really pathetic. If his father could see him now.

A sudden shame washed over him, Draco didn't want those bright blue eyes on him anymore. The thought of his father completely ruined his attempts at enjoying himself. He briefly wondered if his parents even knew what had happened to him. Part of him had the strangest feeling if Lucius Malfoy knew he wouldn't care. "I don't feel up to it." To his surprise Ron smiled a little, ruffling his hair lightly, causing him to glare hard at the red-head. He made a face but made no attempts to straighten his now mussed, pale blond hair, letting it be rather than to touch it. "I think..I need to get some rest." His teeth were dug firmly into his lower lip now; How long would it be before he would have someone to talk to?

Ron's laugh filled the room, "You look like you could use it. Want me to come back again tomorrow? The Headmaster sorta hinted that you don't get many visitors." Draco's eyes barely managed to meet the Gryffindor's face, brows raised in surprise at the suggestion.

He looked away, biting back his urge to jump at the opportunity, "I don't really care," There was that damn hand again, ruffling his hair like he was some little kid, "I swear, Weasley..If you didn't already look like you got it handed to you I'd break your nose for that." He grumbled under his breath, staring up at Ron. The red-head was still grinning like an idiot he just rolled his eyes, what was the bastard so damn happy about?.

"I'm sure," He left, still laughing, and Draco could've screamed. _Why the Hell is he so frustrating? I swear, I'll kill him._ He brooded, staring up at the ceiling until he managed to doze off. For the first time since he'd had the privacy to do so the blond fell asleep without adding new scars to the quickly growing collection.

Ron headed back to the common room with his hands stuffed in his pockets, neatly cured up by Pomfrey, Hermione by his side and a smile stuck on his lips. When she fixed him with an amused, albeit confused, glance he shrugged and looked away, chuckling. "I think..I got a bit of the old Draco to come back today," He rubbed the back of his neck, "I dunno, I want him to be okay and all that, but d'ya think he'll go back to being a total lout when he does?"

She simply laughed, calling him 'cute' and shrugging, "Aw, if I didn't know better I'd say someone is starting to like having the Prince of Slytherin as a friend," Ron made a face, he was starting to like the prince alright. Just not quite in the way he'd expected to.


	8. Renewed Horrors

**Despite my laptop issues I've managed a new chapter! **

**Warning: strong sexual content and language**

**I apologize if it isn't as decent as my last, I'm not feeling so well. Might not be able to get a new chapter up tomorrow, doctor's appointment and a few other things might keep me a bit busy for a while. I'll try, nonetheless.  
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**Enjoy,**

**XxDess  
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Harry Potter's world seemed to be crumbling around him. A rampaging killer was on the loose, after him, his best friends were obsessing over the likes of Draco Malfoy, and suffering dearly for it. Hermione and Ron had recently returned from seeing Madame Pomfrey, admittedly later than expected due to Ron's visit with none other than his (and it seemed he was the only one still considering him so) school nemesis, Malfoy. Ron had urged him not to think badly of the boy, Hermione tried to make him see that the boy was suffering, that he'd been hurt, he'd scoffed when she said this.

"Really, he's suffering, is he?" Harry barked, staring out the window, he felt trapped and alone, his friends seemed to care more about Malfoy than him these days. "And did it ever cross your minds that maybe he's, oh I don't know, **faking** it?" He slowly set his narrowed green eyes on the pair. They'd been looking at one another with matching looks of discomfort. Ron's face gained quite a bit of color, though, and now was contorted with disgust. Before he could speak, Harry was at it again. "You saw him when he irritated Buckbeak! Flashing that fucking **scratch** like it was some mortal wound! Playing it off like he'd been mauled or something. Malfoy **lives** off of attention, he's spoiled, pathetic, and foul." Ron's face grew a deep, splotchy red.

"Dumbledore's got him locked up Harry! Or haven't you noticed he isn't gallivanting about, displaying his sufferings to the world?!" The red-head snapped, hands clenched into fists. A painful, sickening twist grew in Harry's stomach. His best friend stood here, confronting him, protecting his enemy! "And, in case you didn't notice Harry, Draco isn't telling anyone what happened." He snarled viciously, Hermione was holding his arm now, looking alarmed as she glanced from one boy to the next.

"Dumbledore trusts anyone, Ron, believes anything! He's trusted Snape, **Snape** of all people before!" Now he felt the heat rising to his face, his teeth grit, Hermione looked like she was nearly in tears. The others around them looked alarmed, but watched with upraised brows, looking to see if anyone would let slip information about the missing Draco. Harry seethed, taking in sharp, ragged breaths as he attempted to cool his temper, to not attack Ron.

"Oh, and Snape didn't save you, didn't try to protect you. No, not at all Harry." Ron's voice dripped with sarcasm, a painful urge to strike him rose up in Harry, staring at his supposed best friend. Who'd been with him through two years of danger and turmoil, saved him from the Dursleys, who now stood here fighting him over someone they used to equally hate.

"Please, stop, the both of you!" Hermione finally spoke up, her voice unnaturally high to show she was fighting tears. Obviously watching the two of them in a row was more than she could handle, **she**, who fought Ron more often than anyone, stood here trying to stop it. He could've laughed, if he wasn't so upset. "Harry, please..I'm convinced it's more than him trying to get attention. Something's wrong with him, why can't you see that?"

Anger boiled and bubbled in him, feeling his face sting with heat, "Yeah? Something's wrong with _Draco_," He spat the name violently, growling with anger now, "_Draco_ is suffering! Oh, of _course_, how could I be so blind?" He snapped, the sarcasm barely leaking through his hate. "What about me, Hermione? What about Sirius fucking **Black**? Huh? What about the fact I'm being hunted by a killer? Does that matter to you?" Pain flashed over her face, her watery eyes falling to the floor as she violently sobbed. Ron jumped to her defense, anger washed over him once again, of course he'd come to her defense. Another victim to protect from Harry, another fight to hold up with him.

"Don't take this out on her! You know we care, Harry, we're not fucking abandoning you!" He snarled, pain and revulsion reflected in his eyes, Harry felt a momentary regret at his words, but he couldn't seem to wash away his rage. He bit his tongue and took a deep breath, narrowing his eyes dangerously from Hermione to Ron before shaking his head.

"I can't believe this, my two best friends, protecting a fucking Malfoy. I'd have thought you of all people, Ron, would be with me on this. After the way he's treated you, your family," he turned on Hermione again, who was attempting to stop her tears, she wouldn't meet his gaze. "And you! All the foul things he's done to you, called you, and here you are, standing up for him like he's your friend."

He turned on his heel, huffing, and stormed out of the portrait hole. He was so angry he didn't see it coming; he didn't realize what had happened, only the warmth that washed over him. And then he was walking slowly towards the hospital wing without thinking.

Draco's eyes slowly pried themselves open, hands rising to wipe the sleep from them, what little he'd managed to grasp. A house elf was happily working about the little room, tidying it up. When the long-nosed creature peered up at him with watery bug-eyes it spoke. A high, squeaky, shaking sound, not looking at him now, though it smiled. It seemed to fear disrespecting him with it's presence. He could hardly tell whether it was male or female, vaguely wondering if there were actually genders in the creatures, but he shrugged it off.

"Honky has your dinner, sir," It squeaked proudly, bowing it's head respectfully, "She hopes it is to your liking, if the young sir would like more Honky is most pleased to fetch whatever he likes," She added, looking up at him nervously. He sighed, reaching for the plate with a groan; he really did hate house-elves.

When he didn't speak she hurried off and he poked at the food, but didn't eat it. He was thinking again, it seemed like the longer he was locked away the more he began to think. To say the mind of Draco Malfoy was a comforting place to hide was laughable. The thought plagued him, continuously: maybe Dumbledore wasn't lying. It made him nervous; he hated to think about it. Quietly he forced a few bites of mince-meat pie past his lips before giving up on the idea, sliding the golden plate onto the closest table, his pale hands were trembling so badly he nearly dropped it.

So submerged in those troubling thoughts he failed to hear the tell-tale click of his door, the second of it closing, nor the third locking him and the unknown visitor inside. The murmured breath of a muffliato, quiet footsteps dragging across the floor, all of these things fell onto deaf ears. Draco was only awakened from the depths of his darkest fears when a hand clasped onto his shoulder, causing a petrified scream to escape him. The figure before him both irritated and relieved him, not even noticing the dull, lifeless hue in his eyes.

"Fucking Hell Potter," He gasped, wrenching the fingers from his now red skin, something told him there would be a bruise there soon. "Were you trying to give me a bloody heart attack?" The pale boy barked, glaring into the dulled green eyes boring down at home emotionlessly. It hit him harder than the balled fist driving into his jaw, and he finally had his answer as blood mingled with tears and saliva. When did he start crying? When was the form of Harry Potter leering over him, pinning him down, digging its teeth into his flesh?

The voice he begged to escape him failed, as it had done many times before, clothes were torn and tossed carelessly, whimpers were all he could manage, watching in horror as his childhood enemy robbed him of his barriers. Turning in suit to do the same to himself, Draco was certain he could handle the boy, he was shorter, far frailer, but the pale blond couldn't muster the energy to fight.

As he'd learned from Snape, or rather the imperiused Snape, it was easier to just give up. He'd be bruised and wounded more than if he didn't, so the frail boy did as he learned. His eyes refused to close, fearing what would happen to him if he did. There it was, though the touch was far more gentle than the last, hands grasped his thighs. Wrenched them apart, raised his hips, though much to his surprise it wasn't nearly as painful when he was fully sheathed. Tears rolled freely, Harry seemed to be fighting the curse, simply from the fact that every time his body moved to harm Draco he gripped the sheets; each attempt at abusing him verbally was forced back into his throat when teeth dug deeply into his lips.

Once, only once, he leaned forward and crushed his lips to the blond's, it was painful for the simple fact that he felt Harry's dampened cheeks against his own. When he forced his lips away his voice sounded forced, painful, followed by a broken cringe. "_I-I'm sorry_.." That was the only sight into Harry's pain, it relieved him enough to handle the predicament. Still he was terrified into silence, wriggling and whining, though no longer attempting to shut it out. He focused primarily on the pain so evident on the Golden Boy's face.

And then it was over. Harry was on his feet, sluggishly returning his clothes to his heaving body. Several things happened at once: the door to his room was forced open, Harry fell to the floor, Dumbledore stood with a look of horror at the scene in front of him, and a voice that did not belong to Harry surfaced.

"_You're a fool, Albus Dumbledore. And I will have my prize before you can save him_," the words seemed to end the spell, Harry was staring in horror upon the scene, and suddenly Draco was jerking sheets over his scarred and violated body. Staring at the floor, tears of shame poured endlessly, his face hot with embarrassment. Now Pomfreyy was there, followed closely by the one person he'd never want to see him in such a state. All at once those deep blue eyes were on him and felt as though he were drowning in them. Sucking air into his lungs he vaguely heard Harry and Pomfrey leave, on Dumbledore's order, followed by the man himself.

And then he was alone again. Facing the eyes that plagued him before any of this happened, that now seemed to amplify his agony, waves of anguish and humiliation lapped at him as he stared tearfully into those damned blue orbs. Neither spoke, they both seemed too horrified by what had happened. Slowly his eyes fell shut, hot tears barely managing to pass. The blond had no energy left to force up a flinch, or any movement whatsoever, so he tolerated the hands placing a shirt next to him, brushing a scar on his shoulder, refused to look.

"How did you get these..?" Breathed out the red-head, wishing Draco would look at him, react, something. Slowly he rose to his feet, frowning, mopping his eyes as he finally allowed the situation to wash over him. Harry, his best friend, had just..just..—no he couldn't think of it, too horrible to imagine, he pushed the thought from his mind. Just like that it all clicked.

"..was it..um..was it him the whole time?" Finally Draco summoned his energy and shook his head, hugging the sheets closer as he forced the shirt over his head, still refusing to meet Ron's gaze. He just couldn't handle that. Not now. He hurt too much, why couldn't Harry have succumbed to the curse completely? Why, **why** had he tortured Draco so? With the forced gentleness, the apology, the remorse? It made everything that much worse. His stomach wrenched.

"No..No it wasn't..it's not.." He tried to force out the words, whimpering lowly, everything hurt, "Dumbledore..he-he..said..Imperius..Snape." The words turned into choked sobs, chunks of illegible words, obviously he'd said it wrong, now peering up at him nervously he saw that Ron looked enraged and sickened. "No no..not..no. Snape..first." He finally forced out, curling up on his side. As before many things seemed to happen at once, Ron was now lying in front of him, arms wrapped around him, his face was buried in the chest of a Gryffindor, and he was both horrified and comforted.

"How long? The words startled Draco, they were deeper now, stronger, sweeter even. He barely managed to speak, but when he did Ron pulled back looking at him with a frown, brows furrowing together. "What?" His voice was soft, as though terrified to speak loudly, fearing he would scare the boy in front of him.

"Since I asked for your help. Snape..Well..the Imperiused Snape..cast a Tongue-Tying Curse, I'm sure your pal Granger," Now his voice was bitter, "told you all about that.." Ron sighed, rising to sit up, staring down at Draco. He missed the warmth, though his pride refused to relinquish control over his voice, refused to let him beckon the other back.

The door opened, Pomfrey peered into the room, frowning. "I'm sorry, Mr. Weasley, but I must attend to Draco, I'll have to ask you to leave." One long, mournful glance from Ron was all he received. Then he was alone with the shriveled old healer, and his mind slipped into the warmth of the red-head's embrace. Into a comforting world where nothing could hurt him.


	9. Interaction

**First off thanks so much to **Saki Hana **for all of your support and the wonderful reviews. :) They make me feel like I'm not just wasting my time here! Thanks again for worrying about my health, I'm feeling a bit better now. I'll try and get my stuff up sooner than I have been lately. But no promises. And if you have any tips or a certain idea you'd like to see portrayed, feel free to PM or e-mail me! :)**

**Enjoy~**

**XxDess  
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No one returned for quite some time to see him, other than Pomfrey to check on him, and the only comforting thoughts that kept the blond from losing his mind were those of Ron. The fact that said Gryffindor hadn't returned both terrified and saddened him. He seemed to care so much, so why wasn't he here now? Why didn't he come to comfort Draco when he was all alone, left to wonder in silence over who would be the next to hurt him. Who would come traipsing through that door and pin him, take him, as before. Who next would tear away at his pride, display his agony, would they succumb to the curse or fight it like Harry?

Pain washed over him, the sight of Harry's tormented face was worse by far than what he had done, Draco was too accustomed to being treated that way due to Snape to feel anything towards it, but the pure, agonizing remorse in those dull eyes. That was enough to rip open new wounds, tear him apart like the thought of his Potions Master, a man he'd once trusted, hurting him like he did. Then he was back to the beginning of the cycle, wondering, fearfully, who it could be. His father often spoke of men who would eventually attempt to hurt him to get to Lucius, of enemies, was that what this was all about? His father?

Now the anger, disgust, and pure hate were back. If this was entirely his father's fault, if he'd done something to cause Draco's punishment. The blond's hands curled into tight fists, glaring hard through a fresh wave of hot tears. He'd pay for it. With a heavy sigh and a weak whimper the boy fell back onto the bed behind him, hands over his face. He felt as though he would scream.

Meanwhile, far from Draco's sufferings, Albus Dumbledore sat in his office, the no-longer-imperiused Severus Snape sat across from him, discussing the possibilities. The man before him was staring at the folded hands neatly placed in his own lap. It had taken a great deal of effort to overcome the disgust in himself for being used as he had.

"Now, do you say you've recognized this voice, Severus? The one who has been casting the Imperius Curse?" Dumbledore asked calmly, brows upraised, setting his bright eyes on the man. Snape nodded, in turn trailing his eyes to the window of Dumbledore's office. "Do you know who it was, then?" The man asked calmly, no pleasant smile adorned his face; he too had recognized the voice that had escaped Harry. Though he wished to hear Snape say it as well as he.

"..Fenrir Greyback, sir," He replied calmly, eyes flicking back towards the old, troubled face of someone who used to be his own headmaster. Who knew deep, dark secrets that would rip him to pieces, a man he respected to no end. "There is no mistaking it," He cringed a little at the thought, if Fenrir wanted Draco, he would most assuredly be showing his face soon, "He always did enjoy playing with his food.." He stated lamely, sighing a bit.

"Indeed he did, Severus, I agree with you, though I fear it may not be as simple to catch Fenrir as it was to identify him." The smile he wore was grave, as though it pained him, and he sighed, resting his eyes on the now sleeping Faux. As a hand reached to stroke the bird's smooth feathers he spoke lowly, "I think it would be wise to allow our young friend Mr. Weasley to continue his visits with Draco," He finally turned to look at the dark figure of Snape. "Would you kindly fetch him for me?"

Ron was being badgered into working on his Potions essay by Hermione, but he couldn't think straight enough to do more than scribble a few lines. Sure Harry had made up with them, why wouldn't he? It was his own stupidity that had furthered Draco's torture. He seemed to feel bad about it, but it still bothered Ron to think that his best friend had touched the blond, had..no he couldn't let his thoughts wander to such places. Harry was his best friend, it wasn't his fault, and he was remorseful. That's all that mattered. Though the irritating fact that Ron was not permitted to see Draco, even five days after the attack, had him riled up nearly as much as the thought of Harry's hands all over the blond.

It was a surprise to them all when Snape made his way calmly through the portrait hole, another pang of disgust; he'd violated Draco far worse than Harry ever had. It was easy to understand the hate he held for the man, but too complicated to comprehend the slight irritation he felt at the thought that this man had touched Draco, taken his first experience from him. It still confused the red-head as to why he cared so much. But before he could delve too far into his jumbled thoughts, the Potions Master was standing there in front of him, arms crossed over his chest.

"The headmaster would like to speak to you, Mr. Weasley, if you'd please accompany me." Ron was a bit nervous at the thought of being alone with Snape, but he'd been assured by Dumbledore that the man had been under the influence of the Imperius Curse and was no longer a threat to any of them. Hermione seemed to be thinking along the same lines as he, she looked apprehensive at the thought of Ron leaving, unaccompanied, to travel the halls with Snape.

"Catch you later, yeah?" He shoved his hands down into his pockets, slumping after Snape, though he kept his fingers wrapped tightly around his wand, once out of earshot the man sighed and glanced over at the on-edge Ron. After a long, condescending glare he looked forward once again, walking a few paces ahead of him.

"Dumbledore wished me to explain that your visits with Mr. Malfoy will continue, though added precaution will include meeting with the headmaster before you do," he dared a glance back, Ron looked far more relieved, a small smile actually surfacing. "It seems that the one who has been casting the Imperius Curse to.." He broke off, tensing up a little, "To have others do their bidding has yet to find a new host. For the moment we are relying strongly on the protective spells cast around Hogwarts to keep it that way.

"This does not change the fact that any student who wishes to see Mr. Malfoy will be subjected to see Dumbledore; we cannot allow another incident such as Potter's case to go unnoticed." He stopped in front of the gargoyles that hid the entrance to Dumbledore's office and muttered the password. "Come along then, Mr. Weasley," He mumbled with a hard frown. Ron nodded, following the man into the now moving staircase. The old man sat, smiling grimly, at his desk, rising when the two entered his office.

"Ah, so nice to see you Mr. Weasley," He removed himself from his chair to join the two, Snape moved to take a seat as the old man raised his wand, "I find it very odd that young Draco has grown so very attached to you, Ronald, it seems that in the darkest times house rivalry is not an issue." He was smiling a bit now, a light sparkle of understanding in those bright eyes of his. Ron felt his face redden and cast his eyes to the floor.

"You are, from what I can see, very much yourself. Very well, you may leave, Professor Snape shall accompany you if you would like to see Draco before curfew," And like that the man was comfortably sitting once more and Snape was at his side. It felt odd, being accompanied by Slytherin's Head of House rather than his own, to see the self-proclaimed Prince of Slytherin himself. Though it wasn't the strangest thing to have happened lately, so he didn't speak of his thoughts.

There was a painful, awkward silence between the two. Ron didn't enjoy it, though he was thankful that the man wasn't sneering at him or barking side comments, it was a relief when he found himself at the door behind which Draco was kept. Finally Snape spoke up, startling Ron, his voice sounded strange against the quiet that had settled in around them.

"Madame Pomfrey will inform you as to when you are to leave, I will accompany you back to your common room, is that clear?" But Ron was too set on checking to see that Draco was still alive, still okay, merely nodding. Rather than spooking the blond he knocked lightly upon the door, deciding it was better to give him a heads up.

Draco nearly jumped out of his skin at the sound of a gentle rapping from across the room, slowly rising to his feet and shuffling over to the door, wrapped comfortably in a green and gray striped sweater. It hung a few inches past his hands, making him feel as though he were a child. But the baggy cloth gave him a sense of safety, hiding him from the world. A shaky hand reached out and opened the door, peeking up into the freckled, smiling face that harbored those damned blue eyes. He was nearly sucked in, until a glint of black, like beetle's eyes were on him and he gasped.

A hand shot to his mouth to bite back a scream; the sight of Snape drained what little color that had been in his cheeks. With a great effort he took quite a few steps back, eyes on the floor, muttering quietly against his sleeve. "Co-come in.." He begged that Snape wouldn't be joining them, much to his delight only Ron, who now had a pained look of concern etched into his features, entered, the door closed behind them.

There it was again. That damned silence; it seemed to follow Ron with every visit. Draco took a seat on the far end of his bed, draping a large comforter over his crossed legs. With a deep breath he forced his voice out, "..Si-sit down..you're making me nervous." The other laughed a bit, sliding his trainers off and placing them by the door, hands still shoved deep into his pockets. A second thought seemed to stop him, he drew his wand and a dish that had yet to be gathered before sitting himself comfortably onto the bed.

Draco fixed him with furrowed brows, looking more than a bit confused. Though he didn't speak, slowly drawing a small green and white rectangular box from his pocket and sighing. Suddenly Draco put two and two together and raised his brows. It wasn't often one found a wizard with such a habit as smoking anything other than a pipe. Cigarettes were often placed as a muggle habit, merely because they weren't as elegant as a pipe.

Wordlessly he ignited the tip of the tobacco stick with his wand, drawing out a deep lung-full of smoke. When he let it out he turned to look at Draco, head tilted and a little smile on his lips. The smell of mint and nicotine filled the room. "You smoke?" He asked softly, chuckling a little. Draco shrugged, he really didn't, but he admired the way it made Ron look. Nervously he took the smoldering stick from Ron's fingers, who lit up a second for himself. With a shaky hand he raised it to his lips and drew in a breath. It took a decent amount of effort not to hack and cough; the smoke burned his lungs and throat. He didn't want Ron to laugh at him.

At first he thought of simply throwing it away, putting it out, it was just awful. After a third draw, though, his head was spinning and the rush hit him. It tasted like a mixture of ash and mint. A small smile grew over his lips, Ron looked pleased with himself. For quite some time the two smoked in silence, enjoying the buzz, finally the pale boy spoke.

"I did it." He said quietly, shocked at himself, but the damage was done and Ron was somewhere between amusement and confusion. Though when Draco didn't answer the unasked question swimming in those eyes he spoke, puffs of smoke billowing from his lips as he did so.

"Did what?" At first it seemed like Draco wasn't going to speak, though he drew back a sleeve of the heavy sweater to show the many scars that were beginning to fade, adorning his pale skin. Ron nearly choked mid-drag, coughing out smoke and ramming a fist into his chest before calming his breathing, flicking his ashes into the plate between them. The blond followed in suit, staring at the bright red tip and the blue-ish smoke spiraling from it.

"Why?" He finally broke the awkward silence and Draco dared a glance up towards his face, tilting his head a little and offering a shrug before another burning drag of smoke filled his lungs. He held it there a moment, finally letting it release. Rather than answer the question he countered with another.

"Why do you care so much? You tried to help me." Ron laughed a little and heat rushed to his cheeks in embarrassment, staring down the wall to avoid making eye contact, taking another long drag. He let out a yelp and nearly dropped the remains of his cigarette when he felt it burning his lip. Ron snorted and slipped it from his fingers, putting it out on the plate.

"Easy, mate, don't go smoking the filter, shit burns." He chuckled, shaking his head and finishing off his own. He looked thoughtful, slowly turning to face the pale blond, fingers pressing to his now stinging lips, cheeks burning red. Slowly Ron reached forward, moving the hand away from the blond's mouth with a thoughtful smile, "I reckon I just can't hate ya," He moved his own hand back to run it through his hair, mussing the red locks and sending them into disarray.

"Guess I only ever did outta principal, really, that and you could be a git sometimes.." He chuckled lowly, amused by the confusion etched into Draco's pale face, "Nah, never really did hate you. I mean yeah, you pissed me off pretty bad talkin' down to 'Mione and everything, but I don't reckon I actually hated you." His eyes lingered too long on the blond's face, turning it a deep shade of pink. He didn't seem embarrassed in the least, unlike Draco.

"You really like her, that mud--..er..Granger." He caught himself, not wanting to irritate the red-head, he was the only person who seemed less concerned with his health, visiting him to give him company rather than to check his wounds or ask him about his suspicions on who was behind it.

To his surprise Ron was laughing, already working on his second cigarette, glancing at Draco through clouds of smoke, eyes half-lidded. Those damned lips curled into a smile, "Jealous?" He didn't look surprised, unlike the blond who was now dumbstruck, lips parted in a look of pure shock. Recovering after a moment his eyes narrowed.

"Me? Jealous of what, exactly? Are you implying something, weasel?" Ron looked amused, leaning forward, though not too close, the cigarette still placed neatly between those lips. Draco snatched it with a half-smile, anxious; he feared his heart would jump into his throat. Despite the heavy smell of smoke his breath was sweet.

"I absolutely am implying something," He chuckled and pulled back, resting against the wall Draco's bed pressed to, once more lighting up since the boy had successfully gotten himself a second cigarette. The blond puffed on it, simply to give him something to do, a distraction. Another comfortable silence washed over them, the only sounds were the deep inhales and long exhales escaping each boy in turn.

"I've no idea what you're implying, but I very well am not jealous." Draco finally muttered, checking the nicotine-stick to be sure he wouldn't find himself burned once again. There he was, close enough to wrap the blond in his arms, a few inches more and he'd find lips upon his own. There was a determination gleaming in those deep blue oceans before him.

"Oh, don't you?" The boy breathed out softly, seemingly stuck between leaning closer and pulling away, he didn't want to scare Draco, make him uncomfortable, but after discovering all the things that had happened..all the hands that ran over his body, the touches and kisses. He felt and strong urge to claim the pale boy before him, to protect him, let none but his hands graze over him so intimately. His face flushed with color, of all things to be thinking, of all people, it had to be these fantasies..about such a broken boy. Disgust welled up in the pit of his belly.

"I.." Draco faltered, part of him felt afraid, though not of having Ron so close, but of what he was feeling, the other part was screaming orders at him in the back of his mind. He cleared his throat, why was it so hard to think with those eyes boring down on him? Those damned lips so close? "I..don't know what you're talking about," Oh but he did, and he begged for the challenge to be met.

As much as the thought of someone touching him again, of being intimate, scared him he'd wanted to be this close to Ron for Merlin knows how long. Ron's brows raised as he inched a bit closer, his nervousness flickering momentarily, Draco tilted his head up a fraction, nearing their lips further. "You positive you don't know?" The red-head's breath fanned hotly over Draco's lips, without thinking the blond's tongue darted out to dampen them, nearly brushing against the pair so close to his own.

"Not a clue.." He matched the other's voice, a breathy, soft whisper oozing with excitement and the hint of a challenge. His own cloudy eyes drooped, half-lidded and slightly glazed over. The blond felt his heart racing, bouncing against his chest like a caged bird trying to break free. There was a flicker of emotion behind those glazed blue eyes, need, worry, lust; along with other things he couldn't discern all bundled into one.

"Well..maybe I should explain..?" He tilted his head down, inching nervously ever closer, breathing a bit heavier now. Draco refused to break the stare, neither blinked, though a smile tugged at those pale lips, a tongue darted out again, narrowly missing Ron's once again.

"..maybe you should.." That was all it took. Three simple words and Ron's lips were on his, his brain screamed a thousand things at once; terror and excitement bundled all into one. The kiss was brief, warm, and thrilling, all at once the warmth was gone and Ron was staring down at his hand, his cigarette had slid and burned his fingers. With a sigh he took another hit and shoved it down onto the golden plate. Draco didn't move.

"I..Fuck," Ron glanced at the blond, sighing and running a hand over his face with a groan, looking away again. "I'm sorry, that was..stupid. I've no idea where that came from.." He felt a pang of disgust wash over him, how could he take advantage of someone in such a position? When he moved to get up a pale hand was on his arm, cloudy eyes full of confusion set on his face pleadingly.

"It's..it's okay, Ron. I.." His face flushed, the click of a door sent his hand flying back, Ron's wand was moving and the ashes were gone, cigarettes pocketed. Madame Pomfrey stood, smiling tiredly, informing the two that it was nearly curfew and Ron would have to leave. Draco sighed; the red-head glanced back at him, tossing the cigarettes onto his lap and chuckling.

"I'll be back, we can talk some more then, yeah?" With a nervous nod Ron's hand ruffled his hair and then he was alone, curled up on his bed running his fingers over the bent pack the Gryffindor had left him. He played the scene over in his head, again and again, each time his heart raced and his stomach tingled with a feeling he hadn't experienced in what seemed like ages. He ignored the heat rushing through him, though, he couldn't stand the idea of having his own hands on his body, it made him shudder.

When he finally managed to find sleep is dreams were strange, filled with the voice of a stranger mocking him, of Ron's soothing, teasing one soothing him. It was painful and amazing all at the same time.


End file.
